The Lost Can Be Found
by Introvertedly-BrownEyed-Writer
Summary: A normal 21st Century girl named Lillian Coleman has been sent back in time by a demon. When she is attacked by another one in London 1878, she meets Jem and falls in love. Will she go home at the chance, where she's unwanted, or stay where she's loved?RR
1. Chapter 1

**Hi people! I have just recently (This morning) finished the book Clockwork Angel and I loved it! So, I was thinking, and wanted to make a fan fiction about a girl who lived in the 21****st**** Century and was also a part of the supernatural world, or a Downworlder, and somehow manages to time travel to 1878. She is found by Will and Jem when—oh, well, read on to find out! **

Lillian.

That's my name. Lillian Lacey Coleman, abandoned daughter of Frank and Miranda Coleman. I am the eldest of five other kids, the youngest being two. I have auburn hair and startlingly light green eyes. I am about 5'7 and am 16 going on 17 years old.

My parents abandoned me because they thought I wasn't human. Ridiculous, isn't it? I'm starting to have some doubts.

They didn't let me grab any clothes, and I left home in sweats and a thin short-sleeved t-shirt. But I did have my locket, thankfully. It was the only thing that kept me sane. Apparently, all my brothers and sisters were human so they weren't thrown out. I was very glad at that, because I couldn't bear it if they sent out one of the younger ones.

So here I am, wandering the streets of New York City, not bothering on hailing a cab, especially when I have no money. I bet my parents are happy I'm not at home; one less mouth to feed. Not like I ate anyway, with the food I got. I preferred to work for my food, or grow it if possible.

I turned left on the street corner and halted when I saw a dark alley with a dead end. Someone got up and came toward me. I turned and started walking away as fast as casually possible. I got to some store windows and glanced at them.

The stranger was gaining on me. I quickened my pace and was about to get on a busy street, when I was pulled from behind, a hand clomping down on my mouth so I couldn't scream. I struggled, but this person's grip was like iron.

Finally, I knocked my head backwards into my kidnapper's face and he let me go, covering his nose with both hands and letting out whimpers of pain. I ran as fast as I could in my sneakers, but I wasn't fast enough. He caught me again and this time dragged me all the way back into the alley I saw him in.

He grunted as he pulled me towards the back of the alley, and pushed me into the wall. I waited to feel pain of some sort, but all I felt at first, was a _whoosh _of cool air. Then I felt it.

My entire being felt as if I were on fire. I felt as if I were being stretched in every direction possible. I was being stretched, crushed, burned, and pounded all at the same time. I tried to scream, but found that I couldn't. I waited, in excruciating pain, to die.

But I didn't. Instead, I felt cold. And a hard surface underneath me, pressed against my cheek. I slowly, with some effort, opened my eyes to a dark and gloomy place.

_A street, _my mind supplied the word for me. Suppressing a groan, I sat up painfully and looked about my surroundings. The street was deserted, completely empty of people, though there were a few stores beyond the road. Seemingly, there was nobody here; no one had seen me collapse. But… where am I?

This certainly wasn't New York. It looked like one of those towns from old black and white movies. I frowned in confusion. Had I… no. No I hadn't. That's ridiculous, Lillian.

Or is it? Some part of my mind wanted to believe that maybe I _was_ inhuman. The logical part said that it simply wasn't logical or real. But then, why had my parents kicked me out of the house?

I was startled out of my thoughts by a hulking figure limping toward me. I unsteadily climbed to my feet to get a better look at it. The face was shrouded with darkness, but the hands weren't. And they weren't hands either; they were _claws._

With a start, I jumped and started backing away. The thing let out an inhuman growl and ran at me. I turned and ran the opposite direction, trying to put as much distance between me and it as soon as possible. I looked to my left where this huge magnificent building was and ran toward it, adrenaline making me go faster.

But right when I thought I was going to make it, I tripped and the thing pounced. One of his claws was aiming right for my face, but I gripped it, pushing it away. The jerky movements caused the hood of the jacket he was wearing flip off and I saw his face in the moonlight.

It was truly gruesome. Some slimy substance was dripping off its overly large teeth and as it fell on my bare skin, it burned. I hissed in pain and pushed even harder at the thing. In return, it pushed harder as well, but I was stronger.

I pushed it away and kicked it off of me. It staggered for a moment before regaining its balance. That moment was all I needed. I got up blindingly fast, surprising myself slightly, and kicked the creature's head. It jerked back, and was already reaching for me with its claws, but I grabbed a long and sharp pole-like thing and stabbed it in the chest, where I assumed the heart would be.

It shrieked and as it did, I went over to the building and pounded on the door as hard as I could.

"Help! Help me, please! Somebody!" I screamed.

The creature was once again advancing toward me and I gave up on calling for help. I ran to the right, heading down an even darker street, but I didn't care where I was going, as long as it was away from the monster behind me.

It tackled me from behind, and I went down on my back and I felt the rod I stabbed it with prodding my ribs. One if its claws slashed across my face, like a slap and I felt the warm substance of my blood trickling down the side of my face. I saw a hungry glint in the monster's eyes and struggled against his other claw, which was holing both my wrists.

It only squeezed them tighter, which made me cry out softly. Either the thing just chuckled, or it's choking on something. It better have been the second option; if there's anything I hate, it's being laughed at when I'm hurt or vulnerable. This happens very rarely. By the sadistic glint in its eyes, I knew it was the first. I gritted my teeth as it leaned in toward my throat and the burning stuff dripped on my throat.

Instinctively, I turned my head to the side. Big mistake.

The stuff dripped into the gash it had made with its claw. It burned enough to make me scream. I struggled even harder, not feeling it when it gripped harder on my wrists to keep me from escaping.

What happened next was a slight blur of motion. It reached into its jacket and pulled out a sharp dagger. I immediately reacted by bringing my knee up and kicking its gut, making him bend over and giving me a chance to both, rip out of his grip and wrench the dagger out of its hand-claw.

I staggered to my feet and stumbled. The creature was standing up, keeping its eyes locked on me and the dagger in my hand. I screamed, hoping someone would hear me.

And like angels had answered my prayer, two men, about 17 or so, came running toward us, weapons at the ready. The monster saw them too, and reached for me. Scared, I shrieked and slashed the dagger at his claw. It slid cleanly through, and the monster shrieked in pain. When it shrieked, its spit, I guess it was, flew away from its face and into my still burning cut.

I screamed and clutched my face, while the two men attacked the monster. Somehow though, the creature got the upper hand. One of the men, the one with light hair, almost silver, was about to get stabbed by the creature, while it hit the man with black hair.

I screamed, and rushed forward, stabbing the creature with both the dagger and the weapon the black haired man dropped when he fell. The creature screeched so loud that it took all I had not to let go of the weapons and cover my ears.

Then, it _exploded_ in a mess of blood and its saliva. It was all over my once blue t-shirt. Even though I was burning, I had to make sure that the silver haired man was okay. I knelt down beside him.

He was breathing hard, but wasn't injured in any way I could tell in the moon light. Even so, I whispered, "Are you alright?"

He whispered back, "I've been better. Are _you_ alright?"

"I'm burning; inside and out."

His breath caught. "Will, we need to get her to the Institute. The Silence Brothers can heal her before the poison sets in."

I hadn't noticed the other man come up on the other side of the silver haired man.

"Right and we are much obliged, Miss…" he looked at me pointedly.

"Coleman." I only gave him my last name.

He nodded and we both helped the silver haired man up. "What are your names?"

"James Carstairs, but please, call me Jem; everyone else does," the silver haired man said. Jem; it suited him.

"And I, am William Herondale; but everyone calls me Will." The black haired man tipped his head as if he had a hat.

"We should go now," Jem said.

"Wait," Will said, sounding alarmed. "How can she see us? Didn't we use the runes?"

Jem's silver eyes widened. "I hadn't even noticed. Perhaps she has Sight," he murmured back to Will.

"Well, for sure she has Hearing," I said icily. They both looked back at me, Jem apologetic, Will amused.

"Let's just go." Will started walking and Jem went after him as well. I took a step forward, but the burning was just too much. I collapsed on the floor with a cry, and immediately saw Jem by my side.

I was breathing harder than before, and my vision was blurring.

I could faintly hear the sound of Jem's voice shouting at Will, and then being lifted into a pair of arms. The last thing I saw was Jem's worried face above mine.

And then the world went black, as I lost consciousness.

**So, what do you guys think? I would LOVE to hear what you think!**

**Please review!**

**And I don't own the Infernal Devices Trilogy. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for not updating sooner, guys! I was just busy with school especially since it's almost the end of the trimester. But anyways, thanks for reviewing! Wow, three reviews on the first chapter! I didn't expect them so quickly! Anyway, here's the next chapter!**

When I woke up, I wasn't groggy, like I should've been. It was as if I had only closed my eyes for a moment and then opened them again. The room I was in was dim, only lit up by what looked like a small stone that an unfamiliar woman held.

I sat up and she looked over at me in surprise, I guess because she hadn't heard me wake up.

"Miss Coleman? Are you alright?" the woman asked me.

"Yes, who are you? Where am I? What happened?" as I said it, memories flooded my mind, memories of last night. Or was it last night? I had no idea where I was, how long I'd been knocked out, and why I wasn't feeling like I should.

"My name is Charlotte Branwell. You are in London, at the Institute for Shadowhunters. You were attacked by a Shax demon, but Will and Jem got to you before it could kill you. And you probably wouldn't have needed their help, the way they described your fighting skills," Charlotte chuckled.

I chuckled along with her. A figure moved behind me and I turned to see a hooded person moving to face us. He removed his hood and I almost gasped at his face. However, even in a place like New York, we learned manners. And his face didn't bother me too much. The Shax demon was worse.

_How do you feel?_

I jumped when I realized that the man had talked to my thoughts. Out loud, I said, "I feel fine, thank you."

The man turned to Charlotte and probably said something to her too, then left the room silently.

"Who was that?" I asked in honest curiosity.

"That was Brother Enoch, one of our finest doctors. He healed you from the Shax demon's blood, which had invaded your system. It could've been fatal, had he not healed you," Charlotte explained.

I shuddered, not wanting to think about what that would've been like.

"Are you hungry, Miss Coleman?" Charlotte was already out of her seat, and about to head to the door, when another girl about my age walked into the room. By her apparel, she must have been a maid.

"Mrs. Branwell, I brought the dress you asked for. It looks to be about her size, if not a little snug, but it'll have to do," the girl said. She turned towards me and that's when I saw the scar that marred her pretty face. I ignored the scar however; I had a few of my own, and hated when people stared at them.

"Thank you, Sophie. If you would help Miss Coleman dress…?" Charlotte trailed off, going to the door and leaving the glowing stone on the bedside table. She left, closing the door behind her.

I turned to the maid—Sophie—and walked toward her, where she stood with the dress. It was like those dresses that they wore in the 1800s for stuff like balls and dances, special occasions and the like. I took off the nightgown that someone had probably put on me while I was asleep and stepped into the dress Sophie held out for me.

As she laced the corset, I asked her, "Does everyone know I'm here?"

"Yes miss, they all do. We all found out when Master Jem came back with Master Will, hollering for help. He carried you all the way to this room, where we contacted Brother Enoch to heal you. We were all afraid that you wouldn't make it. But you did, miss, and now you are ready to go to dinner," Sophie said. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, then smiled to herself when she was satisfied.

We stepped out of the room and Charlotte led me down numerous corridors that all looked the same to me. Eventually, we came up to two double doors and she pushed one open, ushering me inside.

I froze when all conversation stopped and heads turned toward me. I smiled slightly and waved shyly.

"Well, the demon slayer returns! How are you?" I looked over to where the voice came from and smiled wryly.

"Great, thank you very much. I'm back to live another day, so it seems," I said to Will.

He smirked, bemused. To his right was Jem, looking better than he had when I first saw him in the dim light of the moon. I suddenly felt shy, and looked down a little, to hide my face behind my hair.

"Hello, Jem," I said shyly.

"Hello, Miss Coleman. Are you feeling alright, now?" Jem asked, looking generally concerned.

"Much, thank you."

Charlotte led me to a seat and sat down beside me. Will, however, was busy looking back and forth between Jem and me to notice another girl about my age and height.

"Hello Tessa," Charlotte greeted her.

"Good evening, Charlotte," Tessa replied.

Why does everyone talk so old fashioned here? I wondered.

The doors burst open and another woman came in with plates. On the plates were foods I'd never seen before, and there was so much of it, my mouth was watering. That's when Charlotte remembered to introduce me to everyone.

"Miss Coleman, this is my husband, Henry," she pointed to the man at her right. I waved and he smiled kindly in return. "That's Jessamine over there," she pointed to a very bored and stuck-up looking girl. She looked pretty, ridiculously so. She looked over at me, and then looked away in disgust. I was used to those looks, so it didn't bother me.

"This is Tessa," Charlotte pointed to the girl that sat across from her. I waved at her and she waved back. "And you've met Jem and Will." I nodded.

Then we started eating. At first, I didn't eat. It wasn't until Jem asked why I wasn't that I did.

"Because," I said when I tried to explain, "This is too much. I mean, it's way more than I eat in a week! I usually give my brothers and sisters my food. I've learned to fast for a long time, usually to make sure my siblings eat. My family is poor; but now they won't have to bother feeding me; they've kicked me out onto the streets," I said bitterly.

"Well, you won't be deprived of anything here," Jem said with an undercurrent of something I couldn't decipher in his voice.

"Thank you, I appreciate it very much," I said, looking at all of them at the table.

"Might I ask, what is your Christian name?" Will asked, lounging lazily in his chair slightly.

"Christian? Oh, you mean my first name?" I debated whether telling them was a good or bad idea. Finally, I said, "Lillian. Lillian Coleman. But please, call me Lilly."

Everyone nodded thoughtfully.

"And might I ask, why do you all talk so… properly?" I said. It had been on my mind since I had met Jem and Will. I thought it sounded funny.

"How do you mean?" Charlotte asked, her delicate face showing confusion.

"Like, you say 'Might I ask', when people usually just ask straight out. It's like you guys are from the 1800s or something," I said. I meant it as a joke, but then Henry said, "We are. This is the nineteenth century."

My stomach dropped. "But, I'm supposed to be in the Twenty-First Century! I don't belong here, and I certainly don't know how I got here. One moment I'm walking across an alley, and the next, some guy is slamming me into a wall and I end up here!"

I put my head in my hands. Jem ran his hand on my back hesitantly, but soothingly.

"It's alright, we'll help you. It's alright," he murmured to me, but I knew he was just saying it to try and comfort me. Somewhere, my parents were probably laughing right now. Somewhere, that man was probably chuckling to himself about what he did to me. But right here, there were people who wanted to help. There were people who hardly knew mw, but already cared enough about me to try and get me back home.

Well, except Jessamine, that is.

**Ok, I know I did a bad job on this chapter, but I'll give you a better one next time!**

**Please review!**

**I don't own the Internal Devices trilogy.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello my wonderful reviewers! I am REALLY sorry that I haven't updated in so long! I hope you haven't given up on me or the story! I can't promise that I'll be able to update regularly, but I **_**can**_** promise that I will try my best to update as much as possible. Cross your fingers everyone! Before you read, I just want to thank everyone so much for reviewing and reading my story, because frankly, this isn't one of my best, but I will definitely try to shape it into one of my best! You guys are the best! **

**Please review!**

If I hadn't known any better, I would've said that dinner was an interview. It sure felt like one with Charlotte, Henry, and Will asking me questions about me, where I lived, who my parents are, and what they looked like. I answered them dutifully, like I knew I had to, the best I could. Having Jem beside me, quiet, strong and warm, helped keep the tension from reaching me.

"How many siblings do you have, Lilly?" Tessa asked quietly. I liked her; she was kind of like me, shy and quiet when around our higher-ups, but bold and free when around close friends.

"I am the oldest of five other kids. There's Justin, who's eleven; Alizae, who's nine; Zeya, who just turned nine recently; Fiona, who's six; and last but not least, Jace, who's two. They're all my siblings, but I love them as if they were my own. Sometimes, Alizae says that Jace and I love each other best. 'Favoritism' Justin says." I shake my head and smile affectionately at the thought of Justin's face whenever he said that. His face would go a bit red at telling me, the oldest, that I loved Jace more than I loved the rest of them.

I really missed them.

Tessa's eyes were wide, but she chuckled with me when I mentioned what they thought. "So, you take care of them by _yourself? _With no help from your parents at all?" Tessa's eyes widened again. I wondered briefly if that happened often.

"Nope, no help whatsoever. Mom and Dad are druggies, spending whatever money they could find, or take from me whenever I got a job from someone who knew my situation, on cigarettes, beer, any drug that will give them their next high. Locking the door when they came home highly intoxicated to the apartments made them angry, so we didn't do it. At least, not after the first time—," I broke off, looking down at my arm and briskly rubbing the scar that ran down from the crook of my arm to my wrist.

It was an involuntary and instinctive action; one I probably shouldn't have done where everyone could see. I heard several gasps, but one stood out the most; the one beside me, which came from Jem.

He looked appalled, eyes wide and filled with horror. "They _hurt _you?" His voice was tight and hard, an undercurrent of anger sizzling beneath it. I was almost afraid of what his reaction would be to my answer.

"Yes, they hurt me. At the time, all I could think was, '_better me than them_'. I wasn't going to let them get hurt. I would die before I let something happen to my babies. I was fourteen; Jace was barely seven months old. We were all so young, and they were so frightened. I had to be strong, if not for myself, then for them.

"Dad did it. He had broken a beer bottle on my head and slashed it down my arm. It hurt really badly, but I got through it, putting on a smile for my babies. I never let them see how much pain I was in, how hungry I was, how tired I would get. It was always worth it to see smiles on their faces, to know that I had tried my best to put it up there and that I always would."

Jem's face had softened a considerable amount, looking at me with something tender in his eyes.

"That is a very intense way to feel about your siblings. I admire it," Charlotte said, smiling at me softly. I returned her smile, but the moment was shattered when someone broke the sweet silence.

"Why would you do such a thing? _I _certainly wouldn't let myself be hideously scarred by _my _drunken father. Give them the children, don't touch me."

The entire atmosphere changed. Everyone was tense as Jessamine scoffed and stuck her nose high in the air. My knuckles were white, hands clutching the white table cloth tightly. Very tightly apparently, as my knuckles were almost as white as the cloth. I breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly.

"Excuse me?" I said almost casually as if she had pointed out that my dress was dark red. Never a good thing when it came to me.

"You heard me," Jessamine said snottily, "Unless you are deaf as well as hideously scarred, as you mentioned before."

I leaned back in my seat, something I would've never done in front of such fancy and superior people. The smile on my face was anything but friendly or nice. Lethal or warning would've been more accurate.

"Let me ask you something, Jessamine." She looked at me sharply when I called her by her first name. "Do you have any siblings?" Jessamine glared, but shook her head nonetheless. "Then you have no right to question my actions. I have lived a hard life, and I know you probably have, too. You have a bed to sleep in every night, warm food on the table, a roof over your head, and clothes on your back. Neither my siblings nor I have ever had that much fortune for as long as you've had. Consider yourself lucky and be thankful for what you have," I told her icily.

She glared at me with hatred in her eyes. "You mean thankful for being trapped here in this wretched place with such a dreadful duty that I must do even though I don't want to? I have no freedom, no choice to do anything but stay here and be a Shadowhunter! I never wanted this, I never asked for this, and I will never want it! I'm going to marry a Mortal man so that I won't have to do this anymore. I don't want anything to do with fighting demons; the battlefield is no place for a woman like me."

"You're lucky to even be here, Jessamine! These people love you, accept you, and deal with you all because you are a part of their family! You don't know how truly lucky you are, how much many people—including myself—would _kill _to have something, anything even close to that. And you're taking it all for granted. They love you, and you can't even see it because you are so full of hatred and you want to get out of here so badly! You have anything you could ever want and you just want to throw it all away.

"The second you leave and you get over your relief of being free from here, you'll miss it. You'll regret your decision and want to come back to your old life of senseless luxury. I almost guarantee that you will." We glared at each other, the tension so thick in the air that you could taste it. Jessamine opened her mouth and closed it several times, seemingly at a loss of what to say.

"Almost," She said finally. I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, almost, because quite frankly, there is just no telling with a person like you."

Agonizingly long seconds ticked by, Jessamine's growing redder and redder with each second. Finally, she stood up from the table abruptly and walked out of the room as fast as she could in her heavy dress. The doors slammed loudly behind her as she exited out into the grand hallway.

I felt hot, too hot, and I could feel a headache coming on soon. I covered my face with my hands, feeling the heat of my skin. Gently rubbing my temples, I looked around the table to see everyone's reactions.

Will looked surprised, if not a little impressed; Tessa looked awed and slightly scared; Henry and Charlotte were just staring at me, and Jem was looking at me in concern. It was his face that made the most of an effect on me. I just needed some fresh air, some time to cool off.

"Excuse me," I muttered, pushing back my seat and walking as casually as I could to the door. As soon as I heard it shut behind me, I ran. I didn't care that I didn't know where I was going, I didn't care if Sophie, or anyone else saw me; if they tried to stop me, I wouldn't. Hot tears ran down my face and I didn't bother to wipe them, not at the moment.

I finally stopped when I was totally and completely lost, in a dark and unlit hall. Sniffling, I looked around and stopped at the first door on my left, opening it and walking inside, surprised that it wasn't locked. Inside, it was dark, except for a window at the very end of the room on the wall opposite of me.

Moonlight drifted in through it, casting eerie shadows all over the room. I shivered, though I wasn't cold, as a shudder ran down my spine. Walking towards the window, I sat down on the couch in front of it, curling myself into a big ball and letting the tears flow down my cheeks.

I'd never felt so vulnerable in my entire life. I was several hundred years and miles away from my home, unable to protect my babies from my evil parents, and crying in a dark room in some grand place that I didn't even know my way around. I had already fought with a loud-mouthed rich kid and gotten lost in less than twenty-four hours. Even I had surprised myself with the things I had said to Jessamine, but she needed someone to put her in her place and if someone else wasn't going to do it, then I would.

Thinking of our argument made me think of what—and who—I was talking about before she'd commented. The tears came a bit faster. My babies, my sweet, sweet little darlings were still in New York with our evil parents. What was happening to them? Had they gotten thrown out, too? What were they doing with Jace, my poor little Jace? Horrible images of what they could be doing to him made a huge sob come to my throat. I banished those thoughts away as best as I could.

If only I could see Justin's face as he told me that I could handle this, that I could find a way to come back home. I imagined he would say, '_Don't worry, Lilly; you'll figure something out. I know you will. I believe in you; we all do.' _He would look up at me with those soulful brown eyes of his, making me believe and giving me the strength I needed to get up and never back down. Behind him, everyone else would say in unison, _'Yeah, Lil, you can do it!'_

"You're right," I sniffled, sitting up slightly. "I _can _do this. I just need to figure out how. Thanks my darlings, I love you. Good night."

And even though they weren't really there, I had a feeling they heard me.

So I lay there, submerging myself in memories of each of them. I remembered when Alizae had lost her first tooth, running to me with tears in her eyes, a frightened look on her face when she realized she was bleeding. I had held her to me and explained to her that she had just lost her first tooth, which meant that she was growing up. My eight-year-old little sister had walked around proudly for the rest of the day, a big gap where her right front tooth had been.

I remembered when Zeya had fallen and scraped her knee. I remembered how she'd tried to be a 'big girl' and not cry as I rubbed peroxide on the cut with a cotton ball. There were some things we were lucky to have even had when we were that young. Zeya had limped around and told the rest of the gang how she didn't cry when I rubbed 'the bad stuff' on her scrape, calling me to back up her story. And I had; I would've done anything to keep that smile on her face, even if she'd asked me to something totally ridiculous.

I remembered when Fiona had asked me why we didn't go to school like all the normal kids, and why we had to live in the dank apartments so far away from the big cities. "Why is it that _you _know all these things, but you never went to school either? Why are you the teacher, Lil?"

"Because I learned from walking around and doing jobs for other people and earning enough money to buy and read some books before Mom and Dad took them away. After that, I learned from some of the nice old people from the city," I'd answered her, bending down to her level.

"Ohhh, okay! I'm gonna go play with Alizae now, see ya later, Lil!" And she'd bounded off.

And last but not least, I remembered Jace's first word. The only thing he would ever call me after that first time he'd said it: Momma. Hearing him call me that, such a special tittle, brought tears to my eyes.

"Why are you crying, Lilly? Aren't you happy that Jace said his first word? To him, you're his momma; you're my momma to me, too," Fiona added, wrapping her arms around my neck since she could reach from where I was sitting on the floor of the apartment with Jace in my lap. "Why are you sad?"

"Well," I sniffed, "Sometimes, people cry when they're happy, too. And right now I'm really, really happy." I kissed her forehead, then Jace's. Alizae, Zeya, and Justin came and sat by us, the two girls hugging us, Justin trying to be a macho guy. Eventually, he caved and hugged me hardest of all.

"You're our momma for us, too" Alizae said, giving me a squeeze.

"Yeah, me too," Zeya added.

We all looked expectantly at Justin. He looked around awkwardly for a second, and then said, "Yeah, you're like a mother to me, too. Love you, Lil."

"Love you guys, too. So, so much, darlings," I whispered.

That memory wasn't that long ago, maybe a month or so ago. It was the one time I'd felt happy, as if I'd never gone through years of abuse, or hard labor to pay off my parents' debts and buy their drugs. But it didn't last very long, sadly. Not that happy things really last forever like we wish they could.

My hand flew to my locket, clutching it tightly in my fist. I don't remember how or where I had gotten the gold, heart-shaped locket, especially since my parents were anything but loving and wealthy. I had a picture of my babies and I nestled inside. How do I have it, you ask? Let's just say there are some generous and caring people in the world. They understood my situation well enough without knowing all the gory details.

Flicking the locket open, I held it up in the moonlight to see the picture. Since I was the tallest, I was in the middle, the younger ones surrounding me. I was holding Jace on my hip and he was leaning his head on my chest with a small smile on his baby face. Justin was standing to my left, my arm around his shoulders; back then, he'd only been as tall as the top of my rib cage.

Alizae had her arm looped through Justin's, and Zeya had her arm wrapped around my leg, her thumb in her mouth. She was smiling around her thumb, and Fiona was opposite of her, arm wrapped around my other leg like a vise. Fiona's scruffy blond hair was hanging in her face, like always, and Zeya's hair was pulled back into a tangled bun at the nape of her neck. My hair was in a loose ponytail on the left side of my neck, the curls shining in the sun.

That day had been genuinely peaceful; Mom and Dad had stayed asleep on the couch after last night's heavy intoxication. We were free to what we wanted for a few hours; not that we did much anyway.

I missed my babies so much that tears welled up in my eyes. I silently prayed that they were safe, that nothing bad would happen to them. With those prayers echoing in my mind, I fell asleep, bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window.

I was awakened a few hours later by the sound of heavy footsteps and shouting voices. Frightened slightly, though more curious, I waited to hear what all the noise was about. Someone banged on the door, making me jump, and I heard someone fumbling with the doorknob. In walked William Herondale, glancing around the room before his vivid blue eyes rested on me.

He exhaled heavily, as if he had run a mile without stopping—which I was certain he could easily do—and called out into the hall, "I found her! Please, Thomas, tell the others. And make sure you tell Jem; he is no doubt still looking around frantically."

My eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Were they looking for me?

Will closed the door behind him and started towards me. I sat absolutely still, not moving at all as he came and sat on the remainder of the couch under the window. He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair.

"You shouldn't have left the room like you did, you know," he said in a conversational, yet low tone of voice. "What you said to Jessie was all true. Nobody had the nerve to say so to her face; no one except you. I'm glad you've put her in her place. Thank you." He sounded uncomfortable as he thanked me, as if thanking people wasn't something he normally did. I wouldn't have been surprised.

"You're welcome. I just didn't expect to lose my temper so easily. She just… something inside of me just… snapped, you know? I couldn't help it. And with everyone staring at me, I felt as if I had done something terrible. I just needed time to myself. Those children mean everything to me, more than my own life. I couldn't bear it if something happened to them. That's why I need to find a way to get back to my time as quickly as possible." My voice was a little rough from crying before I fell asleep, but still firm.

We sat there in silence for a few moments before I said on a whim, "You know, I named Jace."

Will turned his head to look at me. "Really? Why is that? Do the siblings name the children in your time?"

I shook my head. "No, I named him because I delivered him. I was fifteen at the time, and had only been fifteen for about a week. My mother was drunk at the time, but what else was new? She collapsed on the floor of the living room and called out to me, because my dad was out getting wasted—I mean, drunk—and we were the only ones home. I made Justin, Alizae, and Zeya get me all the supplies I would need and then shooed them all out of the room with Fiona so I could work, and so they wouldn't be traumatized by the visuals." I chuckled and Will chuckled along with me.

"Mom immediately passed out after I cut the umbilical cord, but hearing that baby's first cry in the world was just so overwhelming…. There aren't any words for how I felt in that one moment. I was happy, sad, angry, and confused all at the same time. I cleaned him up and gave him some of Justin's old clothes. I worked hard to pay for formula, better food, diapers, clothes that didn't have moth holes in them, milk—everything that we would need so that we could survive. I was always in love with the name Jace, so I picked it out for him. He was more like my own son than my brother. I mean, I named him, fed him, bathed him, and even delivered him from my own mother.

"Do you know just how disturbing that is? Ugh!" I shuddered violently at the images. "I still have nightmares."

Will laughed at my expression, though I could see the way his face looked as if he were trying not to imagine what it would look like—and failing.

"With all the alcohol she drank and cigarettes she smoked, I was definitely surprised when he was born in the prime of health, rather than almost dead with the toxins he'd had to endure," I said, half bitter, half wondrous.

Will nodded in agreement. Just as he did, I heard muted footsteps on the carpeted hallway, running towards us in the room. My eyes widened as Jem ran into the room, a relieved expression taking over his face as he saw me on the couch. Running a hand through his hair, he smiled at me before looking over at Will. They exchanged a look, and then Will stood up and walked out of the room, waving goodbye to me as he did.

He closed the door behind him, and Jem collapsed beside me on the couch, breathing out a huge sigh.

"You scared me," he confessed, looking at me with intense sincerity. "Please don't do that again. I didn't know where you were. For all I knew, you could have time-traveled to another time, perhaps even farther back into the past than this. Please, Lilly, come back with us; everyone was looking for you, even I, going against their wishes."

"Why? Why would you go against their wishes…for me? For a lost cause? I'm nothing special, not important; I never have been and probably never will. Why do you look at me like I'm actually important? Like you care for me?" I could not hold back the questions in my mind, spewing out from my lips as I looked up into Jem's silver eyes.

There were a few counts of silence, in which I spent staring at Jem's handsome face in the moonlight. The moonlight made him look even paler than I'd ever seen him—and since I could count how many times I'd seen him on one hand, it hardly counted to make judgments. Thoughts simmered in the fringes of my mind, out of reach. But I knew that Jem was in every single one of them.

In a low voice filled with an emotion I couldn't decipher, Jem said, "I could ask you the same thing."

Excuse me? Did I look at Jem like I cared for him? I wouldn't know, lately I haven't been in control of my actions. But there was a definite possibility that I did in fact look at Jem that way. He'd saved me from the Shax demon—granted, so had Will, but I just didn't feel the same way—and carried me all the way to the Institute, hollered for help, has been nothing but kind to me since we met—and I still didn't know how long it'd been since the encounter with the Shax demon—and my heart skipped a beat when he was near. Call me dramatic, but I think I have feelings for a boy—excuse me, a _man_ that I met just recently!

I desperately hoped that the blush I felt creeping on my cheeks wasn't visible in the moonlight. I looked away, but Jem gently tipped my chin up with his finger, making me look him in the eye. And once I did, I couldn't look away, nor did I want to. Our faces were only inches apart, and I could feel his warm breath on my face as we leaned in—

"Lilly? Jem? Where are you? Are you here? Oh, there you are!"

We both jumped back as far away from each other as we could on the small couch. Tessa walked into the room with a smile on her face, seemingly oblivious to what she'd just walked in on.

"We've been looking for you everywhere, Lilly! Are you alright? I hope you didn't leave because of us, I'm sorry if I was staring. I've just never seen Jessamine intimidated by someone she thought was lower-class—meaning that she thought herself to be above you," Tess explained with an apologetic expression on her face.

I smiled at her. "I'm alright; I just needed a moment to myself. How long were you all searching for me?"

"About three hours, I suppose. You definitely picked a good place to hide; from what I've been told, nobody has been in this room for years. Almost three decades, according to Miss Branwell."

Beside me, Jem stood up and held out a hand to help me up. I took it, enjoying the one second that I held it, and then walked beside him in the hallway.

"So, what was Will doing in there with you?" Jem asked me. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a hint of jealousy in his voice.

"He was the one who found me. We had an uncharacteristic—well, I thought so, anyway—moment in there. Something tells me William Herondale isn't a very open person," I answered truthfully. Jem nodded, more to himself, it seemed, than to me.

We walked for a good twenty minutes in silence—as Tessa had left around the first ten minutes—until we came up to what Jem told me was my room.

"Well, goodnight, Lilly," Jem said softly. Then, in the most gentlemanly fashion, he took my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly and bowing.

A fiery blush worked its way to my cheeks. "Goodnight, Jem."

And with that said, he turned and walked away, down the hall a couple of doors on the opposite side of the hall and entered a room, closing the door behind him. I let out a flustered breath and went into my own room.

There was a candle lit on the bedside table, illuminating the room just enough for me to see the silk night gown on the bed. It took me a while to undress myself with the laced corset, but eventually I untied all the strings, the dress falling to the floor. I picked it up and set it down on the chair in front of the vanity.

The fabric of the silk gown was like water sliding over my skin, and I almost fell asleep right as I put it on. Climbing under the covers without hesitation, I blew out the candle, shrouding the room in complete darkness. I traced a finger over my lips, feeling them tingle with anticipation from the kiss Jem and I had almost shared.

My lips curled into a smile at the thought of Jem, and my body warmed a few degrees. I definitely felt something for Jem, but I didn't know what. It couldn't be as intense as love, not now. But it was definitely similar, too. I was in…like with Jem. Infatuated with him, maybe. It was much too soon to tell.

Closing my eyes, I breathed out a content sigh and fell asleep.

Only to have a nightmare.

**A/N: Again, I'm REALLY sorry about not updating sooner! I'll try my best to, I promise, but there's no guarantee that it'll soon enough for your liking. Or mine, for that matter. But I hope you don't give up on this story! Please review!**

**I don't own **_**The Infernal Devices trilogy**_**. :) **

**Ciao!**

**~Alee B.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everybody! I'm back! My WI-FI is permanent now, so I can update more! Yay! Now, I owe you all an apology for the horrible chapter I left you guys with, as well as the time distance of my updates. I am so sorry; I didn't know it would take so long to get something up! I was just updating a few of my other stories. So, how have you guys been? I hope you haven't given up on me or the story! **

**Hopefully this is better. A reviewer (Thanks, Reshma!) helped me realize that I was moving things too fast, so I hope this makes up for it. Please Review!**

**Read on!**

The corridor was dark. Pitch black, actually. I couldn't see anything at all. All I knew was that I had to keep walking forward. Although I was lost, I knew that I was dreaming. I knew that somewhere I was sleeping in a bedroom that wasn't mine, that was too… grand to be from my own time. I just had to get through this to get to that.

The darkness was frightening, and that surprised me. I'd never been afraid of the dark; not when I was little, and not when I'd gotten older. I felt things crawling all over me, walking in between my legs, making me almost trip every time. But still I knew to keep going on. Occasionally I would see little flashes of light, little sparks of hope that gave me bursts of energy to move faster. But they disappeared between one blink and the next.

This seemingly endless black hole seemed… hopeless. But not abandoned; definitely not that. I could hear things, faint as if from a distance, or close as if right in my ear; a child crying beside me, a grown man's voice rambling nervously a few feet away. Once, even a woman's bloodcurdling scream. It made me want to fall to the floor and curl into a ball, clutching my head. But still, I kept on.

Right when I thought I'd be lost in this endless hall of torture, I walked smack into something. I fumbled my hands over it and confirmed my suspicions—it was a door. My sweaty hand gripped the doorknob, wrenching the door open as fast as I could.

Without thinking, I threw myself through it.

And I suddenly found myself in the weirdest place I'd ever seen. No—place wasn't the right word. More like… mystical tube? No, that still wasn't right. It was a vast plane the color of magenta, with swirls of darker purple and lighter pink. That in itself was unusual. But what really got my attention was the fact that there were _images floating around in mid-air. _The floated as if hanging on walls, confusing me. I couldn't tell if the plane was really a plane, or just a hall.

The images were unlike anything I'd ever seen before. At first glance, they appeared to be pictures—but a closer look told me that they were more than that. They were actual events that seemed to be happening at that very second. Several images showed people talking, laughing, crying, shouting, dancing, playing—and even some other less mentionable things. I walked through the dimension—for lack of a better word—looking at all the different scenes.

Abruptly, I stopped, aware that there was a group of people—a man, a woman, and a boy—directly five feet before me. I froze, looking around for a place to hide before I was caught. Why hadn't I been paying attention before?

I needn't have bothered; they weren't looking at me. They were busy looking at an image in front of them. They all watched intensely, and as they did, I got a better look at them.

The man looked to be in his late thirties, with black hair and light green eyes. He was tall and broad shouldered—definitely somebody I didn't want to see the worst of. He looked Hispanic, his features sharp, his skin color tan. He had a tired, yet alert look to his expression, which made me wonder what was so important about the image they were looking at.

The woman looked about the same age, maybe a few years younger. Her face was flawless and smooth, not a wrinkle visible in the tan skin. She had blue eyes, and a small, straight nose. She too, was tall, with a sort of regality in the way she carried herself—even when she stood still. Her long, auburn hair stretched to her mid-back, and she was wearing a green blouse with black skinny jeans, and black boots.

The boy looked to be my age, with dark, shaggy hair, green eyes that looked dark in the lighting, and a searching expression that made him seem as though he were seconds away from finding something he'd been looking for. He was wearing dark Levi's, dark boots, and a black graphic tee. The boy was lean, tall, and handsome, the way "bad boy" characters are in movies. I could see muscles along his arms, and the strong build of an athletic body under his tee shirt. He was also tan skinned, like the other two adults.

They seemed to be in the middle of an intense conversation. I tried moving behind one of the images, and found that it at least half concealed me; they wouldn't notice me right away if they happened to walk past me. I was about two images away from them; less than five yards.

"Are you sure this is the right one, Joshua?" The woman was asking. I noticed she had a Britishaccent. She looked at him with doubtful eyes while she spoke.

"Of course I am. Don't doubt me, Mother. Have some faith. You know how long I've been searching for her," the boy—Joshua—added. He too had the accent. He glanced at his mother out of the corner of his eye. His dark hair fell in his eyes, and he brushed it away impatiently.

"It's not that we doubt you, Joshua, it's just that… I can't see her living in such a… gruesome place. And with all those children! They run around like lost puppies, for goodness sake. I don't see the other two either—oh! There they are! The woman I possessed so long ago… _Miranda,_" the woman screeched, and pointed at the image with a manicured finger.

I jerked back with surprise. Miranda? Why would she say my mother's name? _There is more than one Miranda in the world, Lillian,_ my mind told me. But I had the strangest feeling that that wasn't the case—that this woman was talking about my mother.

"There's Frank, too," the man mused beside her. Once again, I heard the British accent, though it was tinged with a Spanish accent. The woman merely glanced at him before eagerly returning her eyes to the image.

"Then…. Where is she? Why isn't she there with them?" The woman's voice sounded anxious. It made me wonder who they were looking for, why she was so important. I wondered briefly if this girl was their daughter, or something.

"Want to find out?" Joshua looked at them both. His suggestion seemed to call for some thinking-over, because it was a few minutes before the man answered him.

"Why not? Lead the way, son."

With an obvious relish, Joshua brought up one leg and _pushed it through the image. _I had been wrong; these weren't images; they were _portals._ He disappeared through the portal, his parents following suit. I waited for a few agonizingly long seconds before coming out from behind my portal, and standing in front of theirs.

I saw a dank, messy apartment room. The sight of it made me do a double-take. It was _our apartment_. There was that wine stain on the floor that I could never wash out…that empty milk carton in the corner that I'd told Justin to throw out….

And there was Justin now, holding Jace in his arms with a grim expression on his eleven-year-old face. They were staring at my parents as they yelled, drunk and angry, at my babies. I could see the rest of the bunch huddling behind Justin, trying to distance themselves from the beating that was sure to come. A scraping whine escaped my throat unintentionally.

I couldn't hear what was going on exactly, but I could read lips, a little. I wasn't very good at it, but I tried hard to understand what words they were forming with their lips.

"I knew we shoulda thrown you out with that other b*tch!" My mother screeched. "Especially when we had the chance!"

"You ungrateful little creatures! After all we've done for you, and this is our reward! We ask you to go out and get some money, and you return empty handed! At least that other b*tch knew how to get it!" My father shouted. Frank and Miranda's words were heated and slurred, and I knew the bunch wouldn't last longer than five minutes—if that.

"We tried! But—," Justin blurted out. He covered his mouth with his free hand, but it was too late. Miranda's hand was already raised.

"Why, you little—," she snarled, and her hand descended. I started to shout, to reach out to grab her arm even though I wasn't even there, but another hand, slender and tan, beat me to it.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," a tongue clicked. Miranda was frozen, fear evident in her wide brown eyes. "I thought you knew by now that violence is never the answer, Miranda. I thought I made myself perfectly clear sixteen, almost seventeen years go. What happened, Miranda? Did all of that alcohol get to your memories? Huh, Frank? What have you got to say? Answer me."

Joshua's mother released Miranda's hand, and walked around to stand in front of Justin, and the other children. My opinion of her grew in the "good" department. I was grateful to her in that moment for defending my babies. I watched anxiously for what would happen next.

"Elizabeth…" My mother stammered, the color draining from her face.

The woman raised a delicate eyebrow. Her eyes were colder than a snowstorm. "Is that all you can say to me after sixteen, almost _seventeen_ years? Really, Miranda, after our last meeting, I would've thought you'd have learned your manners by now. Answer me. Where is she?"

"We—she—um, she left!" Miranda stammered, some color returning to her face. I knew she was lying. Her eyes were too bright, showing that she thought she had the slightest chance of bluffing her way out of this situation.

But Elizabeth was no fool.

"Liar!" Elizabeth screeched. "What did you do to her!"

Miranda and Frank cowered. Behind Elizabeth, the gang was watching the events with mouths hanging wide open. They'd never seen the two adults act so afraid. Neither had I, for that matter. This was as new to me as it was to them.

Joshua came up to his mother and laid a soothing hand on her arm. Her eyes snapped to him briefly, but she did relax somewhat. She appeared to take a deep breath before speaking again.

"Where is she, Frank? Where is my…." I couldn't read what she'd said. Her lips formed a word too complicated for me to decipher with my weak skills. Whatever Elizabeth had said had induced a look of shame and regret on my father's face.

"I don't know. We… we kicked her out. We threw her out onto the streets. I'm sorry, so sorry…." Frank's shoulders sagged forward, and he slumped to his knees before Elizabeth. If he said anything else after that, I wouldn't have known.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, looked shocked. That was putting it lightly. She looked like she was having a heart attack. Her tan skinned, flawless face had turned paper white, as if she'd seen a ghost. I wasn't sure she was even breathing. Her family's expressions mirrored her own. Then her face twisted, enraged.

"You did _what? You imbeciles! _How could you do that to her? How could you do that to _my daughter? You had no right!_ _I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS!_"

Joshua moved to restrain his mother, his expression ashen, but he wasn't fast enough. "Mother, no, the children—"

Elizabeth was having none of it. Hey eyes began to glow a malevolent white and orange, and an unearthly fire the color of the ocean enveloped her clenched fists. She rose into the air a few feet, and without any warning she extended her hands toward my parents, opening her fists and unleashing the lethal fire that now enveloped Frank and Miranda.

They had both braced themselves, but from the howls and shrieks of agony that escaped them, they were not prepared for the torture that consumed them. The blue fire seemed to elevate them a few feet in the air so that they were level with where Elizabeth's enraged person had been seconds before; she now watched on the ground with angry, reluctant satisfaction. She appeared back to normal, the fire gone.

My parents hung in mid-air, yelling in pain. At first, I did not know why. Then I looked a little closer. Enveloped in the blue flames, I could not tell at first what was happening to them, what was bringing them such pain. Then I saw that the flames were _melting the flesh off of their bones. _I didn't want to watch but I couldn't look away, my eyes locked on the horrific sight that would forever haunt me; another scar that would never heal or go away.

Their skin melted off their faces first; their hair had fallen to the floor in wispy piles. The skin hit the floor in globs, steaming and bubbling on the carpet. Their faces were forever frozen in horrible expressions of pain; their eyes open farther than anyone could stretch them at will in fear and pain, their mouths open in howls of pain and agony. Their frames shook as their flesh—their _eyes_ fell to the floor, along with parts and bits of their brains.

I was going to be sick.

Their skeletons were the only things left. Their flesh laid steaming and bubbling on the carpet floor, right in front of my siblings' eyes. My heart ached to know that they had seen the whole thing, that they hadn't been able to look away just as I hadn't. They were forever scarred like I was.

The flames that had engulfed my once living parents snuffed out abruptly. I thought for sure the skeletons were going to drop to the floor in a heap, clattering as they impacted against each other. But they didn't. Instead, Elizabeth stepped forward, her eyes cold, her voice pained.

"I trusted you," she said. Her voice held pain, anguish, and betrayal. "I put her into your care. I gave you money. I even gave you protection. And you took advantage. Now I know I was a fool to have done so. You betrayed me. And now you paid the price."

As if a string had been holding them up and had been cut by scissors, the skeletons fell in a clattered heap at her feet. Just how I had detachedly imagined. I felt dazed, yet sick inside. My stomach rolled, its contents threatening to make an unwanted appearance. I was well aware that my breathing sounded labored, that my heartbeat was erratic and wild. But that seemed a million miles away.

I had just watched my parents die at the hands of—what? Some modern version of the Wicked Queen? A powerful sorceress that was looking for… me?

Dazedly, I watched as Elizabeth turned toward her son and husband, both of whom were trying to comfort the littler kids of my bunch. I yearned to be with them, to hold them tightly to me as best as I could even though my arms weren't long enough. I wondered if I could walk through the portal as Joshua and his parents had.

Was it possible? Could I really do it?

I prepared to find out. I took a few steps backwards to get a running start, keeping my eyes locked on the portal. But right when I was about to take a step, I saw Joshua turn in the general direction of the portal. His expression changed as he did a double-take. He squinted his eyes as if unsure of what he was seeing—which, I wasn't too sure wasn't me. It was as if he could see me through the portal. A shiver went down my spine, and I looked back at him through the portal.

Then he began to advance on me. He came closer, closer, and I stood frozen, unable to command my feet to run away from there. That was, until his hand pushed through the portal toward me.

My feet were suddenly moving as fast as they could back the way I came, to the door that lead to the pitch black hall. I didn't hesitate to open the door—which surprisingly was slightly ajar—and throw myself back into the hall.

I ran blindly through it, sensing Joshua and his family behind me, hearing them call to me.

"Wait! Please, miss, wait! Come here, we need to see you! We have something to tell you!"

I didn't stop; if anything, I pushed myself faster. My breath came in gasps, I had a cramp in my side, and I suddenly realized I was barefoot. I kept stepping on things—things with fur and slime and scales, once even with some sort of padding like the pads of a dog's paw—that I couldn't see and kept tripping over; each time I tripped, I scrambled to get up again and ran even faster, only to trip on the things again. Things that I probably didn't want to see.

I could hear those things screaming and shrieking—sounds that added more horror to the nightmare.

_I need to wake up,_ I realized. _This is all part of a nightmare. I need to wake up. _

_Wake up._

I could hear my pursuers' shouts getting louder.

_Wake up._

My legs were turning to lead rapidly fast; much faster than I was prepared for. My pursuers were gaining on me.

_Wake up._

They were almost upon me now. I sensed, rather than felt, their outstretched hands, grasping my hair, my arms, the back of my nightgown—

I sat up abruptly with a gasp. My breathing was heavy, as if I'd just run a marathon. I grappled at the sheets on the grand bed that I was nestled in. The room was dark, though I could see well enough in it. The same vanity table, the same bath tub, the same big bed—everything was the same.

My hair was plastered to my forehead and the back of my neck with sweat. I could feel my nightgown cling to many parts of me that were drenched with sweat as well. Sliding out of the bed, I went to the basin that was on the vanity table and filled it with water from the pitcher beside it. I splashed my face with water to freshen it up, and dried my face off with a towel. Looking up, I glanced at the reflection in the mirror—

And screamed.

There on the bed was _me. My body_ lying in bed covered by blankets. But that was impossible! I was right here, drying my face with a towel—

Only I wasn't drying my face with a towel. Because my hands _passed right through it_. I hadn't even picked up the pitcher at all—I'd been too preoccupied to notice. The basin already had water in it.

I looked at my hands, turning them over, palms up and palms down, and gasping when I saw how they looked. They appeared translucent, and transparent, as if I were a ghost. I neared my body on the bed slowly, shaking with fear and uncertainty.

"Lillian!"

I whipped my head toward the door as it burst open. William Herondale stood on the other side, a hand on his belt, ready to grab a seraph blade, the other holding up a witchlight to illuminate the room. He was fully clothed, though his black hair was disheveled as though with sleep. The witchlight created eerie dark shadows on the planes of his handsome face.

"Will?" My voice shook when I spoke, and I cursed myself for sounding so frightened.

"Lillian, what is the matter? I heard you scream and I came rushing in as fast as I could. Are you alright?" Will came toward me, the hand that wasn't holding the witchlight outstretched toward me. I supposed he meant to take my hand, but it didn't happen that way.

His hand passed straight through mine. It was an odd sensation, having things pass through me. It was like a cold flush of air, like the sudden blast of winter wind when your hand was really hot. It was as unnerving as it was fascinating.

Will's eyes widened as he looked down at my transparent hand. He tried again to grab my hand and failed again, his hand closing around empty air. This time, he looked at me.

"I'll go call Charlotte," he told me firmly. He turned to leave, but I—forgetting that I couldn't touch him—reached out to grab his arm. He felt the coldness and turned to me with a quizzical expression.

"Don't leave me here alone, please. I-I-I just can't be left alone. I just can't." How could I explain what I meant when I didn't even know myself what that was?

He seemed to get my meaning though. "I'll only be gone a few minutes, all right? I promise I'll come back." Will looked me in the eye, and I knew I couldn't doubt him when his eyes blazed like that. I nodded at him.

"Hurry, please."

Will gave a curt nod, and exited the room swiftly, leaving me alone in the room with the witchlight and my own body. Tentatively, I came closer to my body. Thankfully, I could see my chest rising and falling; I wasn't dead. So then, what was this?

In the witchlight, my body looked odd. The light cast eerie shadows on my face, illuminating my cheeks and high cheekbones, my straight, small nose, my pouty full lips. I supposed my eyes would look odd in the witchlight, but I could tell when my eyes were closed. I glanced at the rest of me. Small, yet tall for my age, long legs, long arms, slender figure; I'd never seen anyone look so vulnerable in sleep. And I was looking at _myself._ I looked years younger asleep, more childish and so utterly vulnerable that I hugged my arms around my ghostly essence.

I liked the way I looked when I was awake; sassy, fierce—a person not to be messed with. The scars I had helped with that. And as the thought crossed my mind, my scars on my unconscious body suddenly glinted in the witchlight, visible when I hadn't even noticed them before. There was that one on my neck from the time Frank had miscalculated his belt during a whipping. It hadn't been too deep, but it still bled and hurt immensely. There was the one on my arm, visible even through my nightgown. There was that one slashed through my eyebrow above my left eye. Miranda had had a ring on for that beating.

Remembering the stories behind those scars brought back the memories of my nightmare. I couldn't explain it, but I knew it had actually happened. I knew that Elizabeth had killed them, murdered them with that unearthly fire of hers. I knew that my babies had watched the whole thing. They would forever carry those images with them forever; if Jace was lucky, he'd forget. He was still young. But the rest of them wouldn't forget.

I could still remember the way their flesh had just _melted_ off their bones, their internal organs unexceptional to the fire. Thinking of those images made me want to gag.

Luckily, Will arrived with Charlotte, who apparently had brought Henry, who must've brought Thomas, who must've brought Sophie, who must've brought Jem, who must've brought Tessa. And right when I thought there was no one else, a dark gray cat walked into the room. I noticed that nobody had called Jessamine. It mewled, and that made everyone start asking questions.

"What happened?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Why are we in here at such a time in the dead of night?"

"Lillian, what is the matter?"

"Everybody, _quiet!"_ Charlotte stood in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest. She fixed everyone with a look that silenced any and all protests. I definately would've been frightened by her. "Now," she said, much calmer than before. "What is the meaning of this, Will?"

"Well, I was walking through the halls, just minding my own business after a long night out, when I heard a scream. Being the noble, good-looking young man that I am, I rushed as fast as I could, bursting into this room to find Lillian screaming. I tried to comfort her, but I couldn't. I can't touch her, see?" Will spoke animatedly, seeming to make the situation much more exciting than it was. He reached out for my hand, and I put it in his—but like before, it went through.

The people in the room gasped. Will shuddered. "Such an eerie sensation," he mused.

"And that's not all," I said. Everyone turned to me. I swallowed discreetly. "My body is… right there." I moved aside from the bed, revealing my unconscious body to them.

"Well, I didn't know about that," Will remarked, sounding a little shaken.

Charlotte was the first to do something. She came up to my body and laid a hand on my forehead as if checking to see if I had a fever. Then she put her fingers to my neck and I knew what she was doing. Checking to see if I was alive.

"I am alive, Mrs. Branwell," I told her. "I can see myself breathing."

She smiled ruefully at me. "It never hurts to make sure."

"How did that happen? If you are not dead, then how come you are… like this?" Tessa asked. She made hand gestures, waving her hands at me, then at my body.

"I haven't the faintest idea," I told her. I frowned. Their speech was starting to get to me. I was starting to talk like them. Funny that; I haven't even technically been here for a full twenty-four hours. "But I do know that I had a… very vivid nightmare."

"What was it about?" Jem asked quietly. I realized it was the first time he spoke to me since the crowd had arrived.

I gulped nervously. My hands started to slicken, and I discreetly slid them behind my back. My mouth was dry, and I could taste the terror on my breath. "I saw my parents… get murdered."

The room so silent that you could've heard a pin drop—literally. It was as if everyone was holding their breath; the room was that quiet.

"Some woman did it," I continued, trying to keep the tremors out of my voice. "She and her family somehow went through some sort of portal and asked my parents about some girl. But my parents already knew them—and they knew my parents. They were asking for me, and my father told them how they'd kicked me out on the streets.

"Elizabeth—that was the woman's name—was angry. And that's putting it lightly. _Dios mio,_ she was murderous! She killed them right in front of my brothers and sisters…. She had this… fire on her hands, and she threw it at them. It engulfed them entirely, melting the flesh right off their bones as if it were nothing but suds rinsed away by water. They died so quickly, yet in so much pain. And my siblings had watched the whole thing.

"It was truly terrible, and I couldn't do anything. Then the family was coming through the portal again, and I ran away into a pitch black hall that I had gone through to get there. They chased me, and they almost caught me, but I woke up in time. And then I was here like this." I gestured toward my ghostly appearance.

"Have you tried touching your body to get inside it?" Henry asked me curiously. He was thankfully steering the conversation away from my parents' murder. I shook my head. "Try it," he commanded.

I complied warily. I held out my hand and slowly approached my still form, feeling rather silly at being watched by the crowd of people. I thought I would've had to lie down in the same position as my body, but I found that I didn't need to. The second I made contact with my body, I was sucked into it, feeling as though I were being pulled forcefully into a small, compact box.

I immediately awoke, gasping like a swimmer who had broken out of water after a long time under. I sat up, looking around, disoriented, my eyes coming to rest on the crowd of people standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

"I guess it worked," I said lamely. I honestly couldn't think of anything else to say. The atmosphere was thick with conflicting emotions, making me wonder what they were thinking.

"Do you feel alright?"

Everyone snapped their heads toward the person who spoke in shock. There were two reasons why they were shocked; one, it was Will who spoke, and two, there was an obvious question: why would he care at all?

It made me wonder just what kind of person they knew Willian Herondale to be.

He met their stares with his steady gaze, one that seemed to dare anyone to say anything about his question. Then he turned back to me, sincerity present in his face.

"Uh, yes; I'm fine," I said when I found my voice. I was just as bewildered as everyone else was. Seriously; even Will looked a little surprised.

He nodded, and then spun in his heel and left without a word. I looked after him, feeling confusion wrinkling my face.

Before I could say anything, Charlotte asked, "Do you remember anything else from your dream, Lillian?"

I thought back to my nightmare. I remembered Elizabeth screaming at Miranda and Frank, saying something about me, calling me her….

"Elizabeth," I said suddenly. "She called me something… but I can't remember! It's right there, I can almost hear it in my mind…."

I trailed off, thinking hard. Elizabeth's voice, angry and panicked, rang through my head.

_How could you do that to my daughter!_

My head snapped up, and I shuddered violently, wrapping my arms around myself tightly. I could see myself in the vanity mirror. My eyes looked haunted, and I brought my knees up to my chest, resting my arms on my knees and putting my chin on them.

"Her daughter." My voice could barely rise above a whisper. "She called me her daughter."

**A/N: And… CUT! There you have it! What do you guys think? I hope you guys like this one! Now, I know I said in the first A/N that I would clear up and fix the Jem/Lillian think from the last chapter, but after finishing this chapter I found that there wasn't really any "space" to write that, so I'll do it in the next chapter, I promise! Please review! I love to hear what you guys think; reviews make me write faster, and let me know that someone is reading this and it isn't just a waste of space on FF. **

**Please review!**

**Ciao!**

**~Alee V.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everybody! I'm back with another chapter and a very important question to ask you all. But first I would like to thank everyone who read and reviewed on the last chapter. Thank you all so much, beautiful and wonderful people! Thanks you all for your kind and helpful reviews, I really, really appreciate them. I love you guys! So, now to the important question.**

**What do I do now? As a reviewer mentioned, things changed in ****Clockwork Prince****. Tessa fell in love with Jem and he fell in love with her. I feel… almost wrong coming between that pairing. I now have two options:**

**Ignore Tessa/Jem, and continue with Jem/Lillian; or encourage Tessa/Jem and explore/create Lillian/Will. **

**I have some reservations and uncertainties about W/L, particularly because he loved Tessa too and I'm not sure I could pull off such a pairing. But I noticed that I had been leaving some hints about something between them that I hadn't even known I was leaving until I considered this idea. I've considered it a lot. But once I thought about it, I realized just how possible it could be. **

**However, I did start this out as a Jem/OC story. I feel as though I should stick true to it. **

**So what do YOU readers want? Jem or Will? I'll set up a poll and you guys can hopefully vote. I'll choose depending on both the votes and the reviews (for those who can't vote).**

**Well, that was an awfully long A/N. But I'm finished now. Oh and please remember to always read these A/Ns; I usually have something important to say, like this. So, read on and please review!**

There was a quiet knock at my door. I sat up on my bed, shrouded in darkness. I had told Charlotte as she and the rest of the crowd left the room that I didn't want any light in the room. She insisted, but I asked her in a pleading voice to not argue with me about it.

"Please," I'd pleaded to her. "Take it away. I need to think, and the dark offers no distractions. Please, Charlotte. Please." I don't know if it was my plea or the desperation in my voice that made her relent. I had watched as conflicted emotions battled in her eyes. Charlotte had sighed and nodded, taking Will's witchlight with her and ushering everyone out the door, closing it behind me and shrouding the room in almost complete darkness.

The darkness helped me think, hid anything that might distract me from my line of thought. I had been thinking for maybe an hour or two when I thought I heard a shout from someone, someone who was trying not to shout too loud. Whoever the person was shouting to did not answer, but the knock on my door sounded a few minutes later.

I brushed my hair from my face and took a deep breath. When I thought I was composed enough that I would not burst into tears in front of anyone, I said, "Come in."

I winced. My voice cracked from my tears, as I had burst into tears the moment I realized that Elizabeth had called me her daughter. My throat started to constrict again, and I fought to clear it silently.

To my surprise, Will walked through the door, kicking it softly shut behind him. He carried a tray of what looked like two cups of tea and some little snacks on small plates. I wrapped my arms around my drawn knees and rested my head on it, turned to the side so that I could see Will as he set the tray down on the bedside table. He pulled up a chair and sat down on it, all the while not saying a word.

Will didn't say anything to me while we sat in the darkness. It was so silent that I held my breath just to hear if Will was breathing. He was. I was about to say something, ask why he was here, when he grabbed something from the tray, and took something out of the object. I heard a loud scuff and I understood as a flame appeared from his hand; he was striking a match. He lit the candle on the table and then looked at me. His blue eyes were intense as they looked at me; not imploring, not curious; just observing.

Then Will took one of the tea cups from the tray and handed it to me silently. I took it after a moment's hesitation, sipping it quietly. The warm liquid soothed my swollen throat, seemed to calm my fraying nerves almost instantaneously. It was rich and delightfully buttery, a taste that satisfied my stomach. I sighed contentedly and leaned back into my pillows slightly.

"What is this?" My voice broke the silence. I was quiet, but it still seemed to echo through my room. Will's mouth curled up at one corner in a crooked half-smile that seemed strangely endearing.

"It's a tisane," he answered. "It calms and soothes, as I see you've already found out."

"Oh," I said lamely. Then, "Thank you." Will looked only slightly uncomfortable.

"Ah, I brought you some other things, in case you were hungry," he said suddenly as if he had just remembered to tell me so. He gestured his hand to the tray, and then grabbed the other tea cup and sipped from it. I tentatively grabbed a cookie from the tray and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing to speak.

"Is that a tisane too?" I felt compelled to ask. I suddenly realized how little I knew of this century, having not had the formal or required education. I felt horribly incompetent and stupid, and wished I had studied more on earlier history than ancient history. Even so, I should've known more than I actually did.

Will smiled that crooked smile again, and his eyes laughed at me. "No," he said, subtle laughter hidden in his voice. I didn't miss it. "This is chamomile. Just tea."

I gave him a half-smile. I knew about this one. "Having stomach problems, Will? No, it's all right; you can tell me," I said as I saw him try to speak, a slightly alarmed expression on his face. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"I don't have stomach problems. I am merely enjoying the taste," Will said, his voice sounding strained. I sipped my tisane to keep from laughing. I nodded to appease him a little.

"Oh, _si,_" I quipped. "Everyone has stomach problems. Don't worry; you're not alone. You needn't be embarrassed! So what if you have a delicate stomach? I knew a woman once who could never leave her home because of her delicate stomach. I told her to drink chamomile tea, but she quit after one day of drinking it, claiming that it didn't work. She wasn't very patient, that woman." I wrinkled my nose and shook my head, sipping my tisane.

"I do _not_ have stomach problems! Nor do I have a delicate stomach," said Will, "we Shadowhunters have nerves of steel, as well as stomachs, I assure you."

This time I didn't even bother to hide my laughter. I sobered up quickly, though I was still giggling every once in a while. It was then that I realized I was tired. How long had I slept? If I had walked through the halls with Jem and Tessa, and woken up when it was still dark, then what time was it?

"Will," I said, and he looked up, "how long have I slept?" One question at a time; there was no reason to pester him.

Will frowned as he thought. "Well, you were already asleep when I found you in that room and I had no idea how long you had been asleep. We had been looking for you only an hour. By the way," he said in low secretive tones, "you are an awfully heavy sleeper. I carried all the way here, and you didn't stir _once._"

I was tempted to smile, but I didn't. I was preoccupied with the information he had just given me. He had carried me? I had fallen asleep in the room? But I had been awake when he had come in. He had thanked me for telling off Jessamine. I felt a bit of guilt at that thought. And then he left because Jem had come in and we had talked, and nearly… um, yes, I'll stop there. But my point was that I didn't remember any of what Will was saying.

"What do you mean you carried me here? I walked. With Jem and Tessa." Will seemed confused by this.

"No, I believe you are mistaken, Lillian, for I am absolutely positive that I carried you here."

"Only fools are positive," I jibed, unable to resist that chance. Will gasped mockingly.

"I'll have you know, I am very smart for my age," he said. "In fact, Charlotte is my tutor. If I was a fool, I'd be a one-of-a-kind fool."

"Of course you would," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I'm serious, Will. I remember quite clearly that I had walked with Jem and Tessa. I remember being awake when you entered the room and I remember you thanking me for telling off Jessamine, and then leaving when Jem arrived. And then I remember talking with Jem, and then Tessa came in and we all walked to our separate rooms."

Will looked a little chagrined when I mentioned remembering him thanking me. Something told me that I wasn't supposed to know that.

"You heard me thanking you?" Will met my confused eyes with his surprised ones.

"I saw you. I said you're welcome back. I was awake." A thought occurred to me. "Was Jem with you when you supposedly carried me to my room?"

"Yes," Will answered right away. "He had insisted on coming with me." His tone suggested he had not been pleased about it. I wondered why.

"And did you two have a conversation?" I was starting to wonder if maybe I had been asleep after all. I mean, so many weird things were happening, why not hear or dream up things when I'm asleep? It wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary.

"Yes…" Will seemed suddenly uneasy. "Did you hear that, too?"

I nodded slowly. "I think I might have. But I conjured up an entirely different image." Very different indeed.

"I see." Will was quiet then. It was then, in the silence that was not entirely uncomfortable, that I realized light was gradually beginning to shine through the window. Dawn was approaching, and I was suddenly even more tired than I'd realized.

I yawned, and Will smirked at me, though it lacked its usual smugness. "Are you tired?"

I nodded, still yawning and unable to speak. I drank the rest of my tisane, setting the cup back onto the all but forgotten tray. Will was suddenly yawing, too, stretching his arms above his head.

"I think you ought to sleep for at least a few more hours. I can see that the events from a few hours ago have already begun to take their toll on you," he added, tracing the underside of my eye with his finger gently. I shrugged, not dwelling on his tender touch. So I had imagined the whole thing with Jem. I was relieved and little bit disappointed, but still more relieved than anything else.

I lay back against my pillows. Before I could stop myself, I yawned again, covering my mouth with my hand and scooting under the covers and blankets. "As tired as I am," I told Will, "I just can't fall asleep. Not just because I'm still thinking over what happened, but also because… I'm afraid to dream again." My voice was small and cracked slightly, betraying me, as I had hoped not to sound weak or needy. I cursed myself silently.

Will sighed thoughtfully, as if he were musing over what I had said. For a few moments he said nothing at all. Then he said, "Well, I could stay here until you fall asleep, if you would like me to. After all, I can't exactly relate to figuring out that you are the daughter of a murderous woman who killed your parents while you and your siblings watched. No, I can't really relate to that at all."

Instead of making me cry like I would've thought, those words made me laugh. It seemed almost humorous when Will put it that way. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind? You don't have to stay here if you don't want to," I told him. Will nodded, scooting his chair closer to the bed and snuffing out the candle.

"Thank you, Will," I murmured as my eyelids drooped shut. I was very grateful to Will in that moment; I doubted I would've been able to sleep had he not been there with me. I could hear him breathing, slow and relaxed, and thought how lulling it was. I curled up into a ball on my side, facing him, and slowly started to drift off to sleep.

Sometime later, I felt his hand touch the pillow, and then lightly touch my hair next. He stroked it gently, like you would a small, scared animal, and I breathed out a content sigh. His hand in my hair was soft and gentle. It felt nice.

"That's nice," I heard myself murmur sleepily. I heard Will's answering chuckle, and suddenly fell asleep.

~0000000~

I was woken up hours later by another knock at my door. Light filtered through the windows of my room, bright and gray, as though the sun were covered by clouds. I wouldn't be surprised if it was. I sat up and uncoiled from my sleeping ball form, stretching my arms over my head and yawning. I looked to my left and saw that Will was still sitting in the chair, asleep himself, with his mouth hanging slightly open and a light, pleasant snore emitting from his mouth. I clapped a hand over my own mouth to keep from laughing. As it was, a giggle still escaped.

The knock sounded again, and I jumped, having forgotten that anyone had knocked at all. I cleared my throat. "Come in," I called hesitantly. Will didn't stir. Hmm. You would think Shadowhunters would be light sleepers with the kind of job they had. Of course, I'd only heard snippets of what they did, so I couldn't be sure.

Sophie, the maid, walked in the room, another magnificent dress in her arms. "Good morning, Miss Coleman," she greeted me briskly. She stopped cold though, when she spotted Will sleeping in the chair. From the redness crawling up her neck to her face, I guessed that she was either embarrassed—which didn't seem likely—or angry. I leaned more toward the latter.

She took a deep breath, laid the dress on the stool near the vanity, and came over to the chair Will was sleeping in. He looked so peaceful and vulnerable, none of the usual guardedness or mock in his face. And he looked younger as well, more innocent. I felt bad about waking him up, almost guilty.

But apparently, Sophie didn't. "Mr. Herondale!" She shouted. He immediately woke up, jumping from the chair and in front of me protectively. His hand went to his belt, presumably for weapons, but when he saw Sophie standing there with her hands on her hips, her face twisted into a scowl, he relaxed. Even from behind him, his face out of view, I knew that he was smirking at her.

"Good morning to you, too, Sophie," he said sarcastically.

"Mr. Herondale," she said tightly, "just what were you doing in Miss Coleman's room?"

"Helping her sleep, of course," he answered in an infuriatingly obvious voice. He might as well have put a _duh_ at the end of his sentence.

"I have to help her get dressed," Sophie said through gritted teeth. "So it would be best if you left now."

Will looked at her a moment, and then shrugged. He left the room without a glance or a word to me. I could feel the waves of anger and hatred rolling off of Sophie like heat. I stood up and shrugged the night gown up and over my head, making her snap into action.

I stepped into the dress she held, standing perfectly still while she tied and tightened the corset of the dress. I sucked in my stomach and tried to breathe, but all I could manage until she finished were sharp intakes of breath through my gritted teeth. It was a little easier once I breathed out, and she did up the buttons on the back of the dress. She made me sit down on the vanity table as she grabbed a brush and started to gently, yet briskly, brush the knots out of my curls. The entire process was done in suffocating silence.

I decided to break the ice. "Nothing happened, Sophie." She looked at me through the mirror and met my eyes. "Nothing happened," I repeated. "He really was just helping me sleep. He brought me a tisane, and he got my mind off of… what had happened, and then he helped me fall asleep. I promise you, that was it. I would never have let anything else happen, I swear."

Sophie was silent as she seemed to contemplate my words. "I know nothing happened, Miss," she said finally. "But occurrences like this must not happen again. You must be careful and wary of Master Will, for as beautiful as he looks on the outside, he is hiding something dark. Like all things that are beautiful. A glass that is beautiful is fragile, is it not?" I nodded. "Its beauty hides its fragility. And a snake, with its beautiful patterns; you would think it would be alright to touch it, wouldn't you? Its beauty attracts those who are weak when it comes to beautiful things. Its beauty hides its venom, and when you are in its grasp, it will bite you. And it will be too late to save you from falling."

The air in the room was thick and tense. I grappled for a way to relieve the tension. "So, I take it you aren't very fond of William Herondale." I looked up at her sheepishly in the mirror. She gave me a hard smile.

"Mrs. Branwell warned be about Mr. Herondale when I came here. She told me that he would likely be rude to me, and that I could be rude right back, that nobody would mind. He is not just dangerous because of his beauty; he is cunning, very cunning. Be careful, Miss." I didn't know what to say to this, so I just nodded.

Done with brushing my hair, she started pinning it up with little pins. I didn't say anything about this, trusting her, but I shivered involuntarily as her cold fingers touched and brushed against the back of my neck. All the while, I watched her in the mirror, watching how her fingers worked skillfully and briskly adding pin after pin in my hair. All except for a single lock of hair was pinned up and out of my face, the light illuminating the dark splotches under my eyes.

Sophie stepped back to admire her handiwork. Satisfied, she smiled. "There you are, Miss. Ready enough to be seen."

I turned and smiled at her. "Thank you, Sophie. And you do know that you can call me Lilly, right?"

"I know, Miss. Now, out you go."

The corridors were a lot longer than I remembered from yesterday night. I couldn't remember where the dining room was, or where anything was, really. Walls and doors surrounded me, but none of them really struck me as familiar, or raised a red flag in my head. I was wandering, lost in the halls. I eventually got tired of just wandering, so I tried a door, expecting it to be locked, and was delighted to find that it wasn't. I was even more delighted with what I found inside.

The room was large and bright, with a high ceiling and much space. Tables and chairs were scattered here and there, and a desk sat near the giant window, but all of that didn't catch my attention. What _did_ catch my attention were the bookshelves filled with books which lined the walls and went up as high as the ceiling, ladders and some staircases leading up them. Some of the books were barred in, and others were free for the taking. My shocked and delighted gasp was loud in this majestic library as I entered and closed the door behind me, leaning back against it.

I had never seen such a place with so many books! Sure there were libraries in New York, but never close enough that I could go with my siblings and come back before our parents came home. As you can see, I'm a bookworm. I loved books; they were like escapes from a world filled with so much bad, and seemingly so little good, offering travel and adventure that I was too young to experience on my own. I had a burning curiosity for knowledge about everything; but rather than wanting knowledge about practical things, like the ocean, or the rainforests, I wanted to learn about myths and legends and folktales and such. That kind of thing fascinated me, like fictional romance novels, and science fiction, and the like. You could captivate me with any wild, magical story.

I wasn't just fascinated with fiction. It could be realistic fiction, though it had to be really good to catch my attention. The realistic fiction books that I'd read were very serious, things that happened in real life, to real people. I enjoyed them because every time I finished one, it would leave me shocked, with my mind reeling and reviewing the story over and over, putting myself in the place of the hero or heroine. The morals would always change the way I looked at the world, and remind me that I have it good. I had food to eat and a place to sleep. Other people aren't as lucky as my siblings are.

My face had broken into a joyful smile, looking around and turning a full circle in the middle of the room to see everything. I neared one of the bookshelves and was about to pluck a book from it when a voice scared me into freezing.

"So you've finally found a room to come into. Congratulations on finding the one that _I _happen to be in."

I whirled around, the material of my dress slowing me down annoyingly. Will sat at the desk, his legs up and crossed on it, his arms behind his head. He was the picture of lazy arrogance in that one moment.

"I guess so," I said, turning back to the bookshelf just to annoy him. I reached out again to grab the book. A hand stopped me, grabbing my wrist, and I looked up to see the hand belonged to Will. I blinked. How had he gotten over to me so fast? Was this some kind of Shadowhunter superpower? It creeped me out, and I took a step back, pulling my hand out of his grip.

"I wouldn't touch those books," Will said. "In case the bars weren't any indication, I do believe they are not for free-taking."

"What? There aren't any bars—" I started to say, but when I glanced back, there they were. That didn't make any sense! They weren't there a second ago! Doubtfully, I reached out and touched one of the bars; it was solid and cool to the touch. I frowned.

"So," I said to break the silence. "What were you doing in here?"

"Just being my wonderful self, as you can see," Will answered. His smirk was annoying.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right. Good luck with that. I was wondering if maybe you could take a break from being wonderful—God knows it must be a tiresome job to be wonderful all day long—and help me find the kitchen so that I might eat. Would you?"

"Hmm," he said, looking thoughtful. "I suppose a break wouldn't hurt. Very well, let us go."

"Would you like it to hurt?" I looked at him honestly, showing him that I meant the question.

"Ah, let's just go." Without waiting to see if I would follow, he turned on his heel and exited the library quickly with his long legged stride. I almost had to jog to keep up.

"Do you mind slowing down? I don't have ridiculously long legs like you do," I huffed as it because increasingly hard to jog in the shoes I was wearing. Will, of course, ignore me, seeming to be wrapped up in his thoughts.

A few more hallways passed and I couldn't take it anymore. The burning in the soles of my feet was just too much. I stopped in the hallway and lifted my skirts above my ankles, holding my hand out to balance myself on the wall. I removed my shoes and walked tenderly on the cool floor, breathing out in apparent relief. I looked up at Will and saw that he was staring at me oddly. It was unnerving, his stare pointed and unwavering on me.

"What?" I asked, uncomfortable under his gaze. Will shook his head and let out a chuckle. "Am I not supposed to do that?"

"It's unladylike in this century, Lillian," Will chuckled, his eyes scanning me none too quickly. I blushed and avoided his eyes, picking up my discarded shoes from the ground.

"Well, my feet hurt," I said defensively. He shook his head again. In all honesty, I didn't care if my behavior was ladylike or not. If someone had a problem with it, they could do whatever they wanted for all I cared. It didn't matter to me what they thought. They didn't know me. So it was automatically unimportant to me.

Will started walking again, and I scrambled after him, grumbling. Well, at least he'd slowed down.

We walked in silence for another couple of minutes. "So where is everybody?" I asked. It hadn't skipped my mind that the Institute was strangely quiet. I know I hadn't been here long enough to make such an assumption or opinion, but the place felt strangely empty.

"Charlotte and Henry are getting ready for a meeting with the Clave later on. There is to be a discussion about a man named Mortmain, and Tessa." Will's voice was tense, and I knew that this meeting couldn't be good.

"What's wrong with Tessa?"

"Nothing's wrong," Will said. He sounded almost defensive. "They just aren't sure about her, about what she is. They're hypocrites, those people. They don't understand her, they don't really know her, yet they want her gone. All because they think she's a warlock. A Downworlder."

What's a Downworlder? I wanted to ask, but before I could, Will asked me a question that caught me off guard.

"What is your accent?"

"My—what?" I was unprepared for his question, momentarily distracted from our previous conversation.

"You have a strange pronunciation," Will said, "And a certain lilt to your words. What is your accent?"

"Uh," I said. I was dumbfounded. I hadn't really thought about it before. I just thought it was the way I talked. I knew I had Spanish blood and origins, but I hadn't really given it much thought. "A Spanish accent—I think."

"Did you grow up speaking Spanish?" I didn't know where these questions had come from. Why was Will suddenly so interested?

_Don't flatter yourself,_ a voice in the back of my head told me. _He's just trying to distract you from thinking about that meeting. You know that he knows you're probably going to try to get in._

The voice was right. I knew Will was just trying to distract me from talking about the meeting. And about Tessa and what the Clave wanted with her. Whatever the Clave was. Once again, I was depressed about how little I knew about these people who were so kind as to give me a place to stay and food to eat. It was horribly disadvantageous.

"Uh, yeah, a little bit," I said distractedly. "Will, what does the Clave want with Tessa? Is she in trouble or something?"

Will sighed. "She's not in any trouble, and the Clave doesn't want anything to do with her. She's just something they aren't used to, is all."

I waited for him to elaborate. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to, I said, "You're not going to tell me anything else are you?"

"Ah, no, I wasn't planning to, no."

I groaned. "Well, I'm hungry. Are we close to the kitchen yet?"

Will smiled mockingly. "We're already here." He stopped into front of a pair of large double-doors, not as large as the ones to the dining room, but still pretty big. He gestured for me to open them. I felt obligated to knock, but I just opened the doors wide, pushing them open.

Inside was a large, sleek kitchen. I was amazed by how well kept it was for such a large amount of space.

"You'll have to grab your own food, I'm afraid," Will said, walking towards what must've been the pantry. He offered no other explanation, and I didn't push him for one. There was a faint but sure bitterness in his voice. In fact, I was sure I'd heard it when he'd talked about the man named Mortmain, too. I wondered why.

"Okay, that's fine," I mumbled, not really caring. I followed him to the pantry, and froze for a fraction of a second. It was filled with fruits and vegetables and a whole lot of other food that I couldn't even name. Of course, nothing was prepared, but I hadn't expected anything to be. I went in, grabbing anything that looked good for breakfast, and then went out to the stoves to cook it.

Will was already at one, so I took another one. It turned out to be one of those handling ones, where you have to put fire in the pit so that everything actually cooks. There was wood in it already, so I just grabbed a match from the matchbook beside it and lit it up. It burst into flames, and I had to look away, it was so hot and bright. I started mixing together my ingredients so that I could make myself a few pancakes.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting on a stool beside my stove, eating my pancakes dry. I couldn't find any syrup or anything, but I hadn't expected to. I didn't care anyway. It was easier to just eat them like this anyway. All the more quicker, too.

I finished in record time, and washed my plates in what looked like the sink. There were plenty of dirty dishes in it, so I assumed it was, in fact, the sink. I felt bad about leaving the other dirty dishes in there, so I just washed them, too. I didn't mind. After all, I had to do this kind of work for a living once. It was actually kind of fun. When I clean, I feel like I have a sense of order, management. Control. And I can concentrate much easier when I clean. My siblings and I would make a game out of it back in New York when we got bored. It was a way to keep an eye on them, and to clean up the messy apartment.

I sighed, saddened by the thought of my siblings. What could they be doing now? Were they afraid? Haunted by the images of watching our parents die right before their very eyes? Did they have food that night to eat? Were they even able to get a wink of sleep that night? Were they wondering where I was? Why I hadn't come back for them yet? Did they think that I didn't care?

All these questions were eating at my mind, my heart, driving me insane. I would give anything, anything, in that one moment to be with them, to reassure them that I loved them, that we would make it through this mess somehow. But no matter how badly you may want something, it doesn't always mean you're going to get it.

"Lillian?" I heard a gentle, hesitant voice say. Warm hands rested on my shoulders, and I turned around—or they turned me around—and saw that Will was looking at me in concern. There was something wrong with him. He seemed to be vibrating. And I could hear this strange, loud noise from somewhere, loud in my ears, pounding in my head.

That's when I realized that I was trembling, and my teeth were chattering. My eyes moved everywhere wildly, never staying in one spot.

"Lillian, look at me." Will tipped my head up so that I was looking directly at him. He stared at me intensely, and gradually I felt my trembling soften, my shoulders relaxing out of their rigid pose. I was finally still and relaxed when he smiled suddenly, a sad, knowing smile. "Come with me. I'm going to show you something."

"Something appropriate, I hope," I couldn't resist saying. "It would be best to keep this PG-13 rated, don't you think?"

I couldn't help a breathless laugh at Will's confused face. "Never mind," I muttered, not bothered by the fact that he didn't know what I was talking about. It was amusing, actually. And rather distracting.

~00000~

"Where are we?"

Will and I stood in a park of sorts, where young children played, and women dressed the same as I was—presumably their mothers—were shouting at the children to be careful, and to not get dirty.

"The park," Will said simply, as if I should know what park we were at. To be honest, this park kind of reminded me of Central Park. I had taken my siblings there once, when Miranda and Frank told us they were going to be gone for some time. They were only gone for three days; long enough for us to walk there, play for a couple hours, and walk back in time for me to make dinner.

I rolled my eyes. "You don't say?" My voice dripped with sarcasm. We walked a little farther away from the mothers and their children, where it was a little quieter and secluded. Will unfurled a blanket I hadn't noticed him take from the Institute, and sat down beside him. It was a little cold this morning, the sun covered by gray clouds. It didn't look like it was going to rain, but still. I couldn't be so sure. Right now in New York, the temperature would be reaching the nineties, high eighties. It was _summer_ in New York. I wasn't quite sure what it was here.

"What month is it, Will?"

"July. It's the ninth of July."

July ninth? Already? Wow, it was only two weeks away from my birthday exactly. I would be missing Jace's third birthday, though. He'd finally begun to walk when I had… time-traveled. I felt a painful tightening in my chest that I was already becoming familiar with.

"My birthday's in two weeks," I said softly. "Jace's is in one." Jace was born on the sixteenth of July, exactly seven days before mine. Justin was born in January, Fiona was born in March, and Alizae was born in September, and Zeya in May. Zeya just turned nine on the twenty-fifth.

"Interesting," was all Will said.

He seemed distant, as if remembering things about the park, and I didn't interrupt him. It would've been rude.

I had some things to contemplate myself, anyway. Could I really be Elizabeth's daughter? Could I really share the blood of such a monstrous woman? At least the other two didn't seem quite so bad. I think it would've been nice to live with that man as my father, from what I'd witnessed. In my eyes, he'd gained points for helping my siblings.

A thought struck me. Why hadn't I thought it before? If Elizabeth was my mother, then Joshua was my brother. And that meant that… Justin, Zeya, Alizae, Fiona…

No. I couldn't even bear the thought. I couldn't bear it at all. And my poor, sweet Jace…

Oh God.

"What are you thinking of to make you so high-strung?" A voice sliced through my thoughts. It brought me out of my personal hell, and I was grateful. But I was also confused. So confused, in fact, that I started speaking Spanish, a habit that I did when I was extremely nervous or distressed.

"_¿De qué me estás diciendo?_" I asked, looking hurriedly at him.

He wrinkled his nose at me, and shook his head. "Speak in English, please. I may understand it, but it's not worth the energy to speak it."

"I just keep thinking about Elizabeth, and Joshua, and the man, Elizabeth's husband. I can't shake the picture of what happened out of my head. It's haunting me." I shuddered, remembering those horrible images.

"I don't see how that can string you up so much. After all, it happened hours ago—"

I interrupted him. I was outraged. How could he just subtly tell me to get over what I saw? He of all people should know that it isn't easy to forget what you can't un-see. These images were never going to leave me alone. I was going to see the image of my parents' flesh as it melted off their bones, see their agonized faces. I may not have liked them very much, but that didn't mean I didn't love them. They were my parents! I may have been treated like the dirt beneath their shoes, but I looked past all of that, staying with them for all the things that they did right; not the many things that they did wrong in an uncontrollable state of mind. They hadn't meant to do all that they did to us. And even when they treated us so badly, I kept returning to the thought that kept me with them.

They had kept us when we were all born. They hadn't thrown us away, or put us in some orphan home to wander around thinking we didn't have parents. They kept us, and I saw it as a sign that even under all the intoxication, they loved us. I didn't stay because I didn't have anywhere else to go—though, I won't lie, that was a big part of it. I stayed for love. I stayed because I loved them. It was natural for me to miss them. I wouldn't have wished such a death for anyone. I mourned their death through silence, because tears wouldn't help anyone. Tears wouldn't bring them back.

"How dare you." I speak calmly despite being livid inside. "How dare you tell me to get over what I saw. Do you know what it's like to see your parents die right in front of you? Do you know what it's like to know that they weren't even your parents at all, to know that you mourn the death of two people who could have been strangers to you your whole life? Do you know what it's like to see that image, the image of your parents' flesh melt right off of their bones the way wax melts from a candle? It's much worse than that, I can tell you. Do you know what it's like to know that your little brothers and sisters watched the whole thing and now have no one to protect or love them? My little siblings are in New York, more than a hundred miles and years away from here and now, and I can't go back there because I don't know how.

"It kills me to think of them, because I know that they are somewhere out there, lost or hurt or panicked, thinking that I don't love them because I'm not there looking for them, because I haven't found them. They could be worried for nothing, thinking that I'm in some sort of trouble, and that's why I haven't gone to them yet. I watched the two people that I have ever loved as parents die right in front of me, and it was all my fault. They died because of me. And I couldn't do anything about it. And do you know what it's like, to love somebody no matter what they did to you, no matter how horrible they were to you; and to not be able to stop loving them? It rips you apart, it really does.

"You can't tell me to get over it, because people can't forget what they can't un-see. I don't care who you are, or if your heart is detached from your emotions, it just doesn't happen that way. You can't make light of what I've done, or what I've been through. You may be a Shadowhunter, but I can still knock you into next week."

And with that, all the tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding fell off of my shoulders. I'd been wound up tight, my hands bunched up into fists, clutching the fabric of my extravagant dress. I looked over towards the little pond that was just a couple of my lengths away, ducks and little ducklings dipping in and out of the water. I noticed one, a big male, separated from the others, seemingly eyeing me as if I were a particularly interesting newcomer. Or it could be that my dress was the same dirty green as his feathers. It looked dark enough to look like the green of camouflage pants, but it looked lovely with the white lace patterns over it. I paid him no mind.

Will, however, was laughing at my last comment. I gave him a measured look, saying that, while my words were a joke, they were still meant to be taken seriously.

"So I see," he chuckled. "And just how do you propose you are going to do that?" He bit his lip to try to hide his laughter.

"I'm going to find your weakness, of course." I said it lightly, as if we were only discussing the weather. I imagined how weirded out any person would be to hear us talking about beating each other up in such a light manner. The thought made me bite my lips to keep from smiling.

"And what have you discovered so far?"

"You have a weakness for opportunities," I murmured, looking away toward a mother who was encouraging her daughter about making some sort of crown of flowers. This park was rather short on flowers, except for the ones growing sparsely in the grass. I knew the girl must've made it from those. The mother looked genuinely happy that her daughter had made a flower-crown for her.

"And what does that mean?" Will was starting to sound genuinely interested.

"You rush in at the slightest opportunity. If we were to be engaged in one-on-one combat, and I were to have a spot open that you could hit me and weaken or stun me, then you would take it without a second thought. But I could purposely leave one of my weak spots unguarded so that you would hit it, I could take you on in the most vital place where I know I could have you stunned and pinned to the floor in a matter of seconds. And you would be ashamed for being both, beaten by a girl who is much weaker than you, and for not doing what you should have; waiting for me to leave my weakest spot open so that I could have lost, or taking me down the minute you knew you could."

Will looked stunned now, as he took that in. I smiled, knowing that I had surprised him. But in truth, I had surprised myself as well. I hadn't really known that he even _had_ a weakness. I had merely been joking. I hadn't known that I would be right.

"Bet you didn't think I knew that—ow!" I cried out in pain as I felt a sharp and painful bite on my forearm, causing me to jerk around to see the offender. A string of profanities and curses flowed from my mouth as I pressed a hand to the painful spot, and I turned to see that the thing that had bitten me was the _freaking duck. _

It stood there now, waddling away from me at a leisurely pace, strange noises emitting from its bill as it waddled. I was outraged as I realized it was _laughing _at me. Of all the nerve—

I didn't even finish the thought. Will had gotten on his knees to examine the bite, but I stood up, still cursing and shouting, and grabbed a nearby rock about half the size of my fist from the ground. I chucked at the duck with all my strength, and was satisfied when I heard the stupid duck stop laughing and instead start sputtering when the rock hit it square in the back. I sat down with a furious "Harrumph!" and absently let Will take my arm and slide up the sleeve of my dress. He could hardly do so, he was laughing too hard.

"What are you laughing about?" I cried as I got fed up with it. I mean, seriously! I get bitten by a duck, and he just laughs about it? Where's the chivalry? Well, I guess not very many girls get such a thing from Will, seeing as I kind of pegged him as a player.

"You," he choked out between fits of laughter.

"I think I gathered that much, thank you," I said icily, glaring at him.

"Look behind you," he said, and I followed his pointed finger behind me.

A crowd had gathered, consisting of many people who were gaping at me, mouths hanging open, and eyes bugging out. Men and women and children, though I saw many mothers had their hands clapped over the ears of their children, and I knew they felt sorry that they only had two hands, and more than one child.

My cheeks began to burn, and Will noticed, his laughter rising again. Without looking at him, I reached out and slapped his shoulder, quieting him down, but not nearly enough. I bit my lip in irritation.

"I apologize for my inexcusable behavior," I called out to the crowd. I swear I had never been more embarrassed by anything in my entire life. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get going." And I stood up, pulled Will up by the collar of his coat, and dragged him out of the park.

If I had expected him to protest, I was disappointed. He didn't say a word about my dragging him. He was too busy laughing, the jerk. I stopped dragging him once I'd found a quiet little spot far from prying eyes in the park. I let go if his collar, glowering at him as he rubbed his neck, still continuing to laugh. When he finally quieted enough that he could speak normally, he did.

"I have never seen a girl swear like that before," Will said, something like respect in his eyes, and a hint of something that told me he was impressed. "It was the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. And I have seen plenty of funny things. By the Angel, I haven't laughed like that in so long." He wiped tears out of the corners of his eyes.

My own eyes widened. I had made him laugh so hard that tears had poured from his eyes. From the way Sophie didn't like him, Tessa seemed to avoid him, and Jem seemed to know him, I could tell this was an accomplishment. I felt dazedly proud.

I wanted to laugh at myself.

"Where did you learn to swear like that?" Will brought me out of my thoughts.

"Uh, I kind of picked it up, I guess," I said uncertainly. "In New York, you hear a lot of people swear. I've been swearing since I could talk. But I've been curbing it around the little ones. Don't want them picking up on my dirty habits."

But I already knew that Justin was beginning to swear. Just last month, I heard him swearing like a sailor all because he'd stubbed him toe on the table leg. After that, I was extra careful about my own swearing.

"Was that why they were all staring at me, or was it because what I did was unladylike?" I asked wryly.

"Both, actually," he answered, grinning at them memory. "Especially for something as simple as a duck bite."

"Hey, that duck was laughing at me!" I exclaimed defensively. "And besides, it shouldn't have bitten me like that. It was bound to get hurt by doing that anyway. It should consider itself lucky that we weren't in New York, and that I'm wearing a heavy dress, otherwise I wouldn't think twice about going over there and strangling the stupid duck." I wrung my hands over empty air, as if wringing someone's neck.

"Well, you're lucky it was time to leave, anyway. It's almost four o'clock."

"Really?" I shielded my eyes with my hand, and looked up as long as I dared into the bright clouds. It certainly didn't look like four o'clock. Not to me, anyway.

"We must go get them," Will said. And so saying, he started off at a brisk pace back the way we came. He was probably going to get the blanket we'd been sitting on. I waited patiently, clasping my gloved hands in front of me. It felt weird to be wearing gloves. I'd never really worn any, and the ones I had worn were fingerless. Those were the kind I preferred, anyway.

Will came back then, and he did a thing so unexpected that I froze for ten seconds in surprise. He extended his arm out for me to take.

I didn't know if this was usual Will behavior, or what, but I just took the hand and walked with him to wherever we were going.

"Where are we going, Will?" I finally decided to ask after the initial shock wore off. Who was I to judge or know who 'Will' was? I hadn't even known him more than two days. I had no right.

"We are going to find Jem and Tessa so that we can go to the Clave meeting," he answered simply. I was beginning to realize that when he answered my questions that way, it usually meant that was all I was going to get.

It was rather frustrating.

"Two questions: One, what is the Clave? And two, is the Clave actually going to be there?" I ticked them off on the fingers of the hand that wasn't gripping his.

"No, the Clave isn't going to be there. Just many people of high authority." His tone was curt and blunt. Obviously, I wasn't going to get anything out of him. I wondered if Jem would tell me.

"I see." I didn't really, thanks to his lack of explanation. But I just went with it.

We walked along the crowded streets, where people walked in and out of shops and shouted to each other almost constantly. It was different from the streets of New York, where people pushed and shoved and snapped at you for bumping into them. Here, people apologized, then went on with their day, everything forgiven and probably forgotten. It was refreshing to know that there was once politeness and forgiveness in the world, even if it was more than a hundred years ago. It still counted in my opinion.

Children ran in the streets, mothers chased after them, carriages were pulled along the streets by beautiful, large horses. Merchants shouted, trying to sell their goods, and the entire place was just so _lively _that I was beginning to feel it, the energy that swept through the place. It caused a grin to stick to my face while Will and I walked. This place was _magic._

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" Will smirked at me, looking rather proud of himself. I laughed, gently hitting his arm.

"As a matter of fact, I am," I called over the din. "I've never seen anything like this in my time. It's so awesome." And I meant it, in the true, actual sense of the word. The streets and the people before me created a truly awesome sight. I laughed again, for the sheer joy of it.

I continued to look all over, and we passed by so many buildings. I noticed, though, when the bustling, busy people started thinning out, the farther Will led me. I looked around more, and something caught my eye, a flash of blue and scales. I looked over to it and stiffened at what I saw.

A giant _thing_ stood at the front of a door, and entrance to what looked like some sort of saloon. It stood there, in the form of a hunched over man. Except that men didn't have blue, scaly skin, or lighter blue horns poking up and over the temples like the horns of a bull. Nor did men have pure black eyes.

As if it sensed my gaze, it looked over at me, and grinned, revealing horribly sharp teeth. A pointed, forked tongue flashed out like a snake's, and the thing seemed to wink at me. My blood turned to ice in my veins, and it ran cold throughout my body. Then it turned away and continued to just stand at the door.

I couldn't stop staring. "Look away," muttered Will, giving my hand a squeeze, and then releasing it and stuffing his own in his pocket.

I did as he said, tearing my gaze away from the demon thing, or whatever it was.

"What _was_ that?" I asked breathlessly in a whisper. I resisted the urge to look back at it over my shoulder. I could feel its gaze on my back, burning with heat that made no sense.

"An Ifrit, harmless, nothing you should worry about. Just don't stare at it like that. You'll cause trouble for yourself." Will led me over to a gray, stone wall, out of sight from anyone who could be watching. As if that were going to happen; the streets were completely empty. I said as much, but Will just said, "You never know."

I didn't question it.

"What are you doing now?" I peered over his shoulder, watching him as he drew intricate patterns with some sort of little pen-like thing. I was very confused. He was _drawing?_ "You do know that's vandalism, right?"

"Just hush, Lillian, and watch a true master at work." And so saying, he completed his drawing and stepped back, as if to admire his work. A moment later, the wall started doing something rather strange. It was becoming lighter and lighter, and I almost thought I could see through it. Then I realized I actually _could_ see through it, and I jumped up and cried out. My cry sounded strangely like an accusation.

"Will! What did you do? _Dios, _this is the worst kind of vandalism I have ever seen! What kind of magic marker is that?" I reached out to grab it from him, but he snatched it away, putting it securely back in his belt.

"It's not vandalism. Now come on, before someone sees us." And with that, he grabbed my arm, and _pushed me through the wall. _

I came out on the other side with a yelp. It was dark, and I panicked briefly. Oh, God, Will got me stuck in the wall! What the heck? What did I do to deserve this? It was hot and stuffy there, and as Will came through the wall beside me, I realized that I was not, in fact, stuck in the wall; only hiding in the shadows of a sort of hidden arch in a wall. I reached out and smacked Will on the arm, making him grumble and rub his arm absently.

I looked around at our surroundings, and then noticed Tessa and Jem standing a few feet before us, in front of some sort of monument or memorial. Whatever it was, it was made of stone. Jem and Tessa were talking, and my ears picked up on the word "friend" coming out of Tessa's mouth. What were they talking about?

_Don't eavesdrop, Lil, _I chastised myself. _It's none of your business._

Will walked out of the shadows then, pulling me along with him. I hadn't noticed that I had my arm in his. He said something, a quote, or a poem, but I didn't pay attention to it. I was smiling at Jem and Tessa.

"Glad you could join us, Will," Jem was saying. He shifted his gaze over to me. "Hello, Lillian. How are you feeling?" His question was asked gently, and I remembered then that he had been in the room with the rest of the crowd. I fought down the burn in my cheeks.

"Hello, Jem, Tessa. I'm doing great, actually. Much better than last night, at least. Will took me out to the park, and we stayed there for some of the morning. Then we came to find you. Something about a Clave meeting…?" I trailed off. Jem had a look of understanding in his expression. He shared a glance with Will. Then I saw his eyes slide over to mine and Will's linked arms. They widened ever so slightly, and he looked quickly between Will and me before clearing his throat.

Tessa, I noticed was doing much the same. She seemed unable to look away from our linked arms. It occurred to me then how we must look. I had seen enough movies and TV shows to know what holding hands and linking arms meant for modern couples in my time. I bet Will and I looked like a couple. Still, I didn't take my arm out of Will's, and he didn't take his arm from mine. I wondered if he was waiting for me to do it first. I didn't.

I also noticed that Tessa was avoiding looking at Will. There must've been some sort of history between these two. If there was, I didn't want to get in between it. I squeezed Will's arm and smiled up at him, thanking him silently. Then I disentangled my arm from his and followed him and Jem while they walked in front of Tessa and me. I smiled at her in greeting, and she smiled shyly back.

I didn't pay much attention to where we were walking. All I knew was that suddenly it got dark and then we were in some other place. There were so many people there, all looking very intimidating to me. There were a lot of adults, all with the same black markings on their skin like Charlotte, Will, and Jem. I had noticed them, but I hadn't wanted to ask about them. I seem to be more of the suffer-in-silence type, nowadays.

Will and Jem led us farther into the room, to a couple of open seats. There were only three; obviously none of them were for me. I bit my lip. I didn't know a way out of this place; I hadn't been paying attention. I cursed myself silently. I looked around, and caught Charlotte's eye. She was shaking her head at me, signaling that I needed to get out _right now._ I sent her a panicked look and shrugged my shoulders. Murmurs were rising in the room, all of them about the strange Markless girl who wasn't supposed to be here.

"And just who," a deep, intimidating voice said, "is this?"

Uh-oh.

**And, cut. This is where I stop. Please review! I love to know what you guys think. And I'll have that poll up as soon as possible. Thanks you guys!**

**Ciao!**

**~Alee V.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Why, hello everybody. I bet you're all mad at me! Well, I have a legitimate excuse for once!**

**I was sick for a couple of weeks with HFMD; Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. Plus, we've got bed-bugs in our house now. Go figure.**

**We are all not happy at the moment. Obviously. Anyway, I, uhm, just finished a book a few hours ago called **_**Taken By Storm**_** by Jennifer Lynn Barnes. Truly amazing, but I'm stuck in a fog because one of the main characters died. Spoiler, I know, but you don't know who dies! I don't know why this has affected me so much, besides the fact that… I had a crush on said character. I can't help my fictional crushes, I really can't. Can anyone relate?**

**I'm sure you can. ;) **

**But still, I am shell-shocked, can barely think straight! Again, I don't know why this has affected me so much. I felt as if I were the heroine, watching him die a gruesome death and not being able to do anything but watch. I hate the feeling. Other than that, great book; I really loved it. If you're into werewolves, **_**Raised By Wolves, **_**the first book of the trilogy-type series is the book for you! She might come back to these characters another time—fingers crossed!—which is what I'm hoping for, but I can see why she'd stop where she did. There's really no point to continuing from where she left off. It ended just as it—gulp—should have. **

**Anyway, I'm just ranting. I must continue with the story. Here is the new chapter of **_**The Lost Can Be Found.**_

**Review?**

* * *

><p>All eyes were on me. I could feel every individual stare on me, some curious, some bored, and some even hostile. What I did to deserve those, I didn't know, but they made my skin crawl with displeasure.<p>

Sweat broke out on my skin, trickling down my back, and the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight on end. What was I supposed to say?

"I said," the gruff, deep voice said again, this time with a hint of impatience, "who is this? Mrs. Branwell?"

I could see, even from ten feet away, the blush of embarrassment and humiliation on Charlotte's face. My heart sank to my stomach. I would never forgive myself for embarrassing Charlotte in front of… whoever these people were. They were important; I didn't have to be a detective to know that. A blind person would know; you could feel it buzzing in the air like static.

"This is Lillian Coleman," Charlotte said, finally. I guessed she was going with the truth. "She is a lot like Miss Theresa Grey, in the sense that she may or may not have a power that only a warlock could possess."

"And what would that be?" I could finally see who the speaker with the deep voice was. A man, with graying hair and a no-nonsense face sitting near Charlotte ten feet away from me.

"She time-traveled here. From New York in the year…" she trailed off, and I belatedly realized that she didn't know what year I was from.

"Two-thousand and twelve," I answered quickly, speaking loud enough that they could hear me. A rumble went through the room, and suddenly that much more people were staring at me with hostility.

"Can you prove that?" the man asked. It took me a moment to realize that the question was directed at me. I scrambled to speak quickly enough.

"Uh… not really," I answered truthfully. When in doubt, tell the truth, right?

"I see." He looked over to Charlotte, and she gazed straight back, face red with shame.

Wrong.

"I didn't bring anything with me," I said, and to my horror, I sounded defensive. "What I mean is that my time-traveling was an accident. I was about to be… beaten, robbed, mugged, whatever, when I had time-traveled. I never knew that I could, I don't even know what a Downworlder is."

I shook my head helplessly.

"And I don't know how to get back."

The murmurs grew louder, to the point that the man had to shout at them to make them shut up and quiet down. Then he turned back to me.

"Lillian, is it?"

I nodded. "Miss Lillian Coleman… of New York."

"New York?" He shared a glance with the man beside him, a man with icy eyes and an icy glare. They seemed to glance at Tessa at the same time, but I shook it off. I was just seeing things. "Interesting. How did you manage to… acquaint yourself with the Shadowhunters at the Institute? What happened?"

"Eh, well, like I said, I time-traveled to your time, and I landed in this alley not too far from here. I had an accident with a… Shax demon, but Will and Jem helped me."

"And they killed it, I trust," said the man.

"Actually," Will's voice rang out, "_she_ killed it. We only helped."

Once again, the crowd started talking all at once. But this time, the man looked too distracted to bother trying to shut them up. "Is this true?" he asked finally.

I nodded. He was quiet for some time, but then he looked up again, the no-nonsense expression replacing his surprised one.

"And you said you had nothing to prove you are from the time you claim? Nothing at all? No possessions of any kind—,"

"Oh!" I exclaimed before I could stop myself. "My locket!" My hand flew up to my neck, fisting around the piece of jewelry. It had a picture in it; shiny, colorful, and with some modern things in the back ground. Well, not really, we'd been standing against the wall of an apartment building—but still. That's modern enough, right?

I unclasped it from my neck and held it up. "Would you like to look at it?" I asked awkwardly. It might prove that I was from the Twenty-first century, and it might not, but I had to try. It still felt awkward to ask a man if he wanted to look at my locket, though.

"Bring it here," he said gruffly—and I had to wonder if he was disappointed that I had something to at least try to prove my innocence.

_You're talking as though you're in a murder case,_ a voice said in the back of my mind.

_What else is new?_ I shot back, as I walked up to the man slowly and carefully in my giant dress. I didn't know how women could wear such clothes—they were a recipe for disaster! I could trip and fall on flat ground just wearing this dress.

He took my locket from me, holding it close to his face and far away to inspect it, looking at the gold heart-shaped locket. My birthstone, a ruby, was smack-dab in the middle, gleaming proudly as if begging for attention. I stood to the side, fidgeting with my fingers nervously.

For a long time, the entire room was so silent that I could hear every little rustle, every little move, every intake of breath. I took that time to look around. The room was a dome shape, bigger than anything I'd ever seen. People were sitting on benches, most of them full, and they were all looking at us. People from different places—none of them familiar. A woman with features similar to Jem's sat some ways away from me. She had the same delicately beautiful features, the same curved eyes and cheekbones; but where Jem's hair and eyes were silver, hers were dark. Her eyes were kind, looking at me with a sort of sympathy that I both appreciated and didn't want.

A man with sharp, beaky features was staring at me with something in his eyes—hatred? But how did that make sense? I didn't even know him. How could he look at me like that when I had done nothing to him? A younger, though better looking, version of him sat beside him, staring stonily ahead, looking to the man—whom I was sure had been called Consul Wayland—and avoiding my gaze. Though I could've sworn his eyes had flickered over to me once or twice, something that was anything but stony in his eyes. I didn't like it; it made my skin crawl.

Then, something seemed to change about the Consul. His eyes widened, he held the locket away from his face, and then he looked over to me. I stood there, watching him with a growing sense of alarm.

"There's a picture on the inside, too," I said in a small voice. I reached out and flicked the locket open, revealing the picture nestled inside. I felt as though I were giving up some deep, dark secret that I wasn't supposed to tell. I pushed back the feeling while he stared at the picture with equal parts fascination, equal parts horror.

"Women in your time wear trousers? And flimsy shirts like that?" said Consul Wayland, sounding much like he looked. "That's… that's…" he trailed off, unable to find the right word.

"It's the official clothing that everyone wears," I told him. "Everyone can wear what they want. Of course, even nudity is forbidden in my time. There are laws against it. Women can dress like men, and men can dress like women, though most don't. Women have jobs, like construction and business, and they don't have to stay home all day looking after children, and things like that. We… have a lot more liberty, so to speak. We're allowed to show our bare legs, our feet; just—a lot more skin. Not the best idea, but—," I shrugged. "There's nothing we can do about that."

Everyone was… shocked to say the least. There are so many other words I could use; appalled, horrified, fascinated, skeptical… The list went on and on.

The Consul cleared his throat. "I see. This is… more than enough proof. But we are not here to discuss such a matter. We are here to discuss… something else."

And everything shifted in a flash. Suddenly, I was more or less forgotten, and Tessa was the center of attention. I watched with some alarm and some fascination as the man beside the Consul—Inquisitor Whitelaw, I learned—brought out a giant, deadly-looking sword. The Consul took it, and Tessa spoke.

"Maellartach," she said, and the Consul looked over at her, amusement in his eyes. He wasn't as cold as I had thought him to be.

"You _have_ been studying up," he said. "Which of you has been teaching her? William? James?"

"Tessa picks things up on her own, sir," Will drawled, sounding blandly cheerful. "She's very inquisitive."

"All the more reason she shouldn't be here." Tessa didn't turn; she didn't look like she needed to. The speaker, the man with the beaky looks, continued talking. "This is the Guard Council." Whatever that was. "We don't bring Downworlders to this place." He spoke tightly, almost through gritted teeth. "And just look; Charlotte Branwell has acquired a new little pet to bring into the Institute! For all we know, Miss Gray and the girl could be allies, working for Mortmain himself! We don't know anything about this girl, whether her powers are real or just some practical joke to make fun of Shadowhunters everywhere. The Mortal Sword cannot be used to make either of them tell the truth; they are not Shadowhunters. What use is it, or them, here?"

"Who is Mortmain?" I asked. I was truly lost. So many assumptions, none of them true. Accusations that couldn't be proven. They felt like little pieces of glass sticking into my skin, each word shaper than the last. "I have no idea what you are talking about. I don't know what a Mortal Sword is, what it does, or who you are, but you have no right to make such assumptions about me. Or Tessa," I added, glancing at the girl. She sent me a thankful glance.

"I'm sorry that I don't know much, but women in my time wouldn't just take that with a smile or a nod. We would say things just as bad—no, worse, actually—right back to you, regardless of who you are, or what your political status is. Even in two-thousand and twelve, that is considered rude." I stood there, hands on my hips, glaring at the man from my spot against the wall.

The room was once again silent. I could feel annoyance directed at me, directed at Benedict, and even some indignity. I could understand that one; who was I, a girl who wasn't even of this time and place, not to mention possibly a warlock or some other Downworlder, to insult or chastise one of them? A Shadowhunter, half-human half-angel; I was practically trash to them; low-life. I knew that, and I didn't care. This man had no right; I had done nothing to him. The Consul broke the silence.

"Patience, Benedict." He held the Sword lightly, as if it weighed nothing. He gazed at Tessa intently. "We are not going to hurt you, little warlock," he said. "The Accords forbid it."

The Accords. Well, that was another thing to add onto my list of things I don't know.

"You should not call me warlock," Tessa said, seeming to gather some courage. "I bear no warlock's mark."

"Then, what are you?" he asked. Tessa stayed silent.

"She does not know," the Inquisitor said dryly. "And neither do the Silent Brothers."

The Consul commented on this, and then turned to the Branwells. He dismissed Henry, but asked Charlotte to stay. Things went on with the meeting. I was allowed to sit, sitting next to Will while Jem sat on his other side, next to Tessa. The bench was narrow, and I sat pressed up next to him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against mine.

Charlotte was called upon to give a recollection on a recent night, a grand story of Mortmain, Tessa, Tessa's brother, Nate, someone named de Quincey, and those living at the Institute all fighting against each other because Mortmain—apparently called the Magister—wanted to kidnap Tessa for her powers. They had thought de Quincey was the Magister, and had killed him—but he wasn't the Magister. Nate had allowed the Magister into the Institute after they rescued him, and Mortmain had murdered two of their servants with his automatons. The entire story made me shudder, and Will reassuringly bumped my shoulder with his. I flashed a small smile at him, and then looked away.

The boy with the stony gaze was staring right at us. I dropped my eyes away and looked back to Consul Wayland, busying myself with memorizing the runes on his black robe. When I glanced back at the boy, he was still staring, but he looked away as soon as I met his gaze. I paid more attention to the meeting.

"Most curious, everything about you, especially this power you possess," said the Consul. He was looking at Tessa with steady, blue eyes. "Do you have any idea what its limits are? Have you tried anything of Mortmain's? Tried to access his thoughts and memories?"

"Yes, I have tried. He left behind a button, and it should have worked," Tessa said.

"But?"

"I could not do it." She shook her head. "There was no life, no spark to it that I could have used. Nothing for me to connect with."

"Convenient," Benedict muttered, low enough that most people couldn't hear, but I did. And from the blush on Tessa's face, she heard it, too. I glared at him. What had she done to upset him like that? I hadn't heard anything that might have to do with him.

The Inquisitor's next words caught my ear.

"The man has vanished. Quite literally, our young friend William Herondale tells us."

Will sat up straighter and smiled brilliantly as if the Inquisitor had given him a compliment, though I could see the malice under the smile. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, or shudder.

"I suggest," the Consul said, "that Charlotte and Henry Branwell be censured, and that for the next three months all of their official actions, undertaken on behalf of the Clave, be required to pass through me for approval before—,"

"My lord Consul." Someone spoke up from the crowd in a clear, firm voice. Heads turned and stared. I got the feeling that interrupting the Consul wasn't an often occurrence. "If I might speak."

Consul Wayland raised his eyebrows. "Benedict Lightwood," he said. "You had the chance to speak during the testimonials earlier."

"I don't hold an argument with the testimonials given," Benedict Lightwood said. He stood, and his sharp profile made me realize that the entire room was lit with witchlight. Did not improve his looks, trust me. "Although, I admit I have an issue with your sentence."

The Consul leaned forward, almost as if to give Benedict a warning. He was a pretty big guy, broad-shouldered, with a thick neck and a deep chest, and large hands that could easily wrap around Benedict's throat—with only one. I kind of wanted him to. I didn't like the fact that I didn't like the man when I hadn't even officially met. It felt wrong, but I couldn't help it. He'd started it.

_Real mature,_ the voice spoke up again.

_Whatever._

"And why would that be?" Consul Wayland said. His voice was low, threatening, and dangerous.

"It seems to me that you have let your long friendship with the Fairchild family blind you to Charlotte's shortcomings as head of the Institute," said Benedict. The intake of breath rang out in the room, audible even to me from where I stood on the opposite wall. "The mistakes committed on the night of July the fifth did much more than embarrass the Clave and cost us the Pyxis. We have soiled and damaged our relationship with the Downworlders of London by futilely attacking de Quincy."

"There have already been many complaints lodged through Reparations," the Consul said. "But those shall be dealt with as the Law sees fit. The Reparations are really none of your concern, Benedict—,"

"_And,_" Benedict spoke louder, over Consul Wayland, "the worst of all, she has let a dangerous criminal who plans to harm and destroy Shadowhunters escape, and we haven't an idea of where he might be. Neither is the responsibility of finding him being laid where it should be, on the shoulders of those who lost him in the first place!"

With his voice coming to a near shout, most of the room was joining in. Charlotte looked distraught, Henry confused as I'd learned he looked often, and Will furious. Consul Wayland stayed silent as the room calmed down, his eyes alarmingly dark as they had turned when Benedict had mentioned the Fairchilds. I guessed they were Charlotte's family.

"My apologies, Consul, but I do not believe that keeping Charlotte Branwell as the head of the Institute—for we all know that Henry Branwell's involvement is minor at most—is in the best interests of the Clave. A woman cannot run an Institute; they do not think with logic and discretion but with the heart's emotions. I haven't any doubt that Charlotte is a good and decent woman, but a _man_ would not have been fooled by such a flimsy spy like Nathaniel Gray—,"

Rage surged through me with every word he spoke, and I clutched the bench I was sitting on. Just as I was going to release the board to release some tension, Will leaped up beside me, swinging around to face Benedict.

"_I _was fooled," he countered, his eyes blazing. "We all were. Just what insinuations are you making of myself and Henry and Jem, _Mr. _Lightwood?"

"You and James are merely children," said Benedict with cutting sharpness. "And Henry never looks up from his worktable."

Then Will started to do something that made my heart beat double-time; he began to climb over the back of his chair. Jem and I tugged him back into his seat, Jem hissing at him under his breath. Pulling him back hadn't been easy, but it could've been harder. I had the feeling that he could've pushed Jem and me away, but he hadn't. I was a girl, and Jem was his… whatever they called it.

_Parabitai, _my mind supplied.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jessamine clap her hands together excitedly, as if she were enjoying all of this.

What was wrong with this girl? I wanted so much to tell her off again, but Tessa beat me to it.

"Are you listening to any of this? He is insulting Charlotte!" Jessamine just brushed her off with a careless gesture.

"And who do you suppose would run the Institute in their stead?" demanded the Consul, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Perhaps, yourself?"

Benedict spread his hands wide in a way that was probably supposed to be self-depreciating but looked anything but. I could see the relish he contained about the concept. "If you say so, Consul…"

Before he could finish, three people I didn't know stood up on their own accord. I didn't know if they were from the London Enclave, or from somewhere else; I didn't know anybody here except for the ones I was staying with.

Benedict's lips curled into a nasty smile. All eyes were on him now; beside him sat the younger boy with the stony glare, his green eyes unreadable, and I could see his slim fingers gripping the chair in front of him.

"Three to support my claim," said Benedict, so clearly enjoying this. "That's what the Law requires for me to formally challenge Charlotte Branwell for the position of head of the London Enclave."

I heard Charlotte give a little gasp, but she sat motionless in her seat, refusing to turn around and face them. I saw Jem's hand still around Will's wrist; Jessamine still looked as though she were watching an exciting TV show. Would it be wrong of me to want to punch her?

"No." Consul Wayland's tone was abrupt and final. I silently cheered inside.

"You can't keep me from challenging—,"

"Benedict, you challenged my appointment of Charlotte the second I made it. You have always wanted the Institute. When the Enclave needs to work together more than ever, you bring disunion and disputation to the proceedings of the Council."

"Change is not always achieved peacefully, unfortunately, but that doesn't make it disadvantageous. My challenge stands." Benedict clasped his hands together tightly. I stared at him and the Consul, hooked on the drastic change of conversation. All of a sudden, the edges of Consul Wayland's form started to waver in my vision. It almost looked like there were two of him instead of one. Everything else in the room looked like that too.

And then, as fast and suddenly as it had come, it vanished, leaving me disoriented, dizzy, and confused.

"… Suggest, Benedict, that the task and responsibility of finding Mortmain should be set upon those who you say 'lost him.' I believe you would agree that finding Mortmain is our first priority?" I heard the Consul ask.

Benedict's curt nod prodded the Consul to speak further.

"Then, my proposal is this: Let Charlotte and Henry Branwell take the charge of finding Mortmain. If by the end of two weeks they have not located him, or have any hints or leads as to where his whereabouts might be, then the challenge may go forward."

Charlotte shot up from her seat. "Find Mortmain?" she exclaimed. "Just Henry and I, alone—without any help from the rest of the Enclave?"

The Consul turned his eyes on her, neither unfriendly nor entirely forgiving. "Should you have a specific need, you may call upon other members of the Clave to help, and the Silent Brothers and Iron Sisters are at your disposal, of course," he said. "But as for the investigation, yes, that is for you to achieve on your own."

"I don't like this," one of the standing people complained. She was a tall woman with fair hair—I'd heard someone whisper her name; Lilian Highsmith. "You're turning the search for a madman into a game of power—,"

"Do you wish to withdraw your support of Benedict's challenge, then?" the Consul interrupted. "His challenge would be terminated and there would be no need for the Branwells to have to prove themselves."

Lilian opened her mouth, but then closed it at a sharp look from Benedict. She shook her head mutely.

"We just lost our servants," Charlotte said, sounding strained. I suddenly had a flashback to the empty kitchen, and the sad look in Will's eyes. "Without them—,"

"As is standard, you will be provided with new servants. The brother of your late servant Thomas, Cyril, is traveling form Brighton to you household, and the Dublin Institute has been generous enough to give up their second cook for you to join your household. Both are well-trained fighters—which, Charlotte, yours should have been, I must say," the Consul said. He eyed her from where he sat.

"But Thomas and Agatha _were_ both trained," protested Henry. I looked over at him and saw that he was frowning at the Consul.

"But," Benedict said, "You have several in your household who aren't trained. Not only is Miss Lovelace rather woefully behind in her training, but your parlor girl, Sophie, I believe, and those Downworlders"—he pointed a finger in the general direction of Tessa and me—"Well. Since you seem to be bent on making them—well, Miss Gray, as I'm aware of most—permanent additions in your household, it would be convenient if she and the maid were properly trained in the basics of defense at least."

I looked sideways at Will, shock causing my jaw to drop. "He means Tessa and _me?_"

Will nodded, his face pulled into a scowl.

"I can't—I'll chop off my own foot!" I heard Tessa exclaim in a whisper beyond Will's form.

"If you're to chop anyone's foot off, chop off Benedict's," Will muttered.

"I second that motion," I mumbled under my breath. From the twitch in Will's jaw, I could tell he was fighting off a smile. I couldn't help but lean back to look at Jem behind Will; he was turned away, talking to Tessa. I sighed internally, and paid more attention to what Benedict was saying.

"As a matter of fact," Benedict continued, "since you two will be so busy investigating in Mortmain's whereabouts, I volunteer to lend you my sons—Gabriel, and Gideon, who returns from Spain tonight—to train them as trainers. They are both excellent fighters, and could use the teaching experience."

"Father!" the younger version of Benedict shouted in protest. His expression was horrified; clearly his father had sprung this upon him without warning. I couldn't say I felt exactly sorry about that.

"We can train our own servants," snapped Charlotte, but Consul Wayland only shook his head at her.

"Benedict Lightwood is offering you a very generous gift. Accept it."

Her face turned crimson; I could see it from where I sat. A long moment passed before she tipped her head, acknowledging what the Consul had said. I felt dazed and dizzy. Me? Train with two boys I've never even met before? Train like a _warrior?_

… Live the life of a Shadowhunter? Briefly, anyway. I'd only read about this kind of thing; it wasn't something I ever considered or saw myself doing one day. Yet, here was the opportunity, flashing in front of my face, so close, yet so far. The boy, Gabriel, didn't seem so happy with the arrangement. Was he just as prejudiced as his father? Did he have something against Charlotte and Henry, and Jem and the others?

Only time would tell. Oh yes; of that I was certain of.

"Very well," the Consul said, and I snapped back into attention. "This assembly of the council is ended, to be resumed here, in this same location, in a fortnight. You are all dismissed."

Unlike I expected, nobody left immediately. They all clustered together, and a great clamor of noise and voices rose from the people around me in the room.

Charlotte sat completely still; Henry hovered behind her, looking like he wanted to say something to make her feel better, but couldn't think for the life of him what to say. Will was glaring across the room at Gabriel Lightwood, who stared coldly back in our general direction. Just as he turned to leave with his father, his eyes flickered in my direction. In the instant that our eyes met, a seeping cold ran down my spine, and my breath left me momentarily; his gaze was so intense, so mean and cold-hearted. Our gazes connected for less than a second, though, and he turned and left just like everyone else was beginning to.

Slowly, Charlotte was beginning to rise from her seat. Henry was murmuring to her now, gently and reassuringly. Jessamine was already on her feet, a white lace parasol twirling in her hand. She shot me a haughty look. Tessa and the others quickly rose to their feet, and I followed suit. Whispers made their way over to us, and though I knew she heard them, Charlotte walked past, back straight, expression blank, cheeks red.

Will looked about ready to kill the next whisperer with his bare hands, but Jem had his hand clenched firmly to the back of his friend's coat. I wondered how he ever managed to keep up with Will; but of course, he had to know how by now, as they'd lived together for a long time. They were _parabatai._ Closer than brothers, from the looks of it.

By the time we got to the doors, we were nearly running to catch up to Charlotte. She waited for us to catch up with her; most of the large crowd was walking off to the left, the way Jem, Tessa, Will, and I had come. Instead of following, Charlotte turned right sharply, marching a couple paces down the unfamiliar hall, turned around a corner, and stopped abruptly.

"Charlotte?" Henry called, sounding worried as he caught up to her. I was near the back, the dizziness catching up to me from before. No one else seemed to know what she was doing, but I instinctively understood before they did; in a brief moment of clarity, I ran faster, pushing past Will and Tessa to stop Charlotte.

"Charlotte! No, no, no, you don't wanna do that!"

Too late; Charlotte drew back her foot and kicked the wall as hard as she could. It did little damage to the stone wall, but Charlotte let out a low shriek of pain.

"Oh, my," Jessamine said, twirling her parasol again. I winced in imaginary pain as I grabbed Charlotte's shoulder to steady her as she clutched her foot. I'd been here before. My foot was always sore to the touch afterwards, but not too bad.

"Charlotte." I recognized the deep voice almost instantly. The Consul stood behind us. The silver runes on his rove glittered as he moved toward us, his gaze locked on Charlotte. Her hand over mine to steady herself, she didn't move otherwise.

"Charlotte," her repeated, "you know what your father has always said about you losing your temper."

"Yes, he did say that. And he also said that he should've had a son," Charlotte said bitterly. "If I were a man—just as he wished—would you have treated me the way you did?"

"And just how did I treat you?" he asked her.

"As if I were a little girl, a child who needed scolding."

Their argument continued on, and I squeezed Charlotte's shoulder and slipped my hand out from under hers, stepping back into the shadows with Jem and Will and Tessa. They continued at it for about a few minutes, and I was getting slightly restless; the feeling of being an outsider was starting to get to me, not to mention the sudden blurriness of my vision. I didn't know if it was form being down here so long, or what, but I didn't like it at all. I reached up to touch my locket—and my hand closed around empty air.

I felt vulnerable, naked all of a sudden, without my locket around my neck. The Consul, I thought. The Consul still has it. And just as I had that thought, the Consul said:

"As head of the Enclave it is your task of finding the Magister, Charlotte. Should you consider it an impossible feat, then perhaps you should ask yourself why you wanted the job so badly in the first place."

He turned to leave, and my heart leaped into my throat.

"Consul!"

Consul Wayland turned, surprise written all over his face. I tentatively walked over to his slowly, stopping before him.

"My locket, please." I held my hand out, palm up. The Consul stared first at my hand, then at me. Then he reached into his robe and pulled out my locket, placing it gently into my palm and closing my hand over it in a gesture I would've thought was meant to be reserved for someone close, like Charlotte, or a family member. I wasn't used to such warmth from strangers; well, _anyone_, really.

"Take care of this, child." He looked into my eyes, and then quickly looked away, turning and walking away before I could formulate a response.

"Eh, thank you!" I called, feeling rude. Not that I got a response back; of course not.

I turned back and walked over to the group again. Everyone was tense and silent; everyone except Jessamine, of course. I wasn't quite sure how to break the silence, but before I could, Jem spoke up.

"Well, I suppose we should be getting back. We've no doubt plenty of work ahead of us."

And then he looked at all of us, stopping lastly on me, and smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh. My. God. I am a horrible excuse for a person. I can't believe how fast time passes! Just yesterday it was like I was working on the chapter! And now—bam! Three months pass, and I am super late in posting it up! In truth, I procrastinated in finishing it until today—October 2, 2012—so I am deeply, sincerely, wholeheartedly SORRY for making you wait so damn long! Everything in that note above is from more than three months ago, before school even STARTED. I think… sometime in July… Not that that is any better!<strong>

**I completely understand if you don't forgive me. I have no excuses. Absolutely none. I do, however, promise that it will never take me this long to update a chapter ever again! Ugh, and this was such a sucky chapter too. **

**BTW, everything here is from CP, BUT it isn't out there word for word. I changed it out, you know, cause that kind of thing is NOT cool, so don't worry! I'm not that stupid. **

**Please review, even if you hate me. Which you probably do, and have every right to. :( SORRY!**

**~Alee V.**


	7. Not an Update, Please READ!

Hey everybody, this isn't an update; sorry if you thought it was. I'm gonna just come out with it: I'm on computer probation. Meaning that I will be torn from my computer, NOOK, and MP3 player until the end of the year. A whole FREAKING THREE MONTHS. That means no updates for... a long while. I know this is unexpected and cruel, but you can thank my mother for it. Any probation and lack of updates you can thank HER for.

It breaks my heart because I was so freaking close to making it up to a close point on a lot of my stories, but apparently my mom just LOVES to punish me. She says she's sorry, but I can see it in her eyes; She's not. She never is. I have just enough time to write and post this up because she just went to work.

Lately my brother and I have been nothing but disappointments to her. I don't mean to spill my whole life story to you guys; you don't wanna hear it. I won't be on here until 2013, or unless God decides I've learned my lesson, and makes my mother give me my stuff back.

If and when I ever get the chance to type or post a chapter on a story, I promise I will. I'll keep writing in journals, and stuff. At the chance, I will post. It won't be for a long while, yet, though, so don't get your hopes up. This is absolutely heartbreaking for me. I am so, so sorry. This is going on all of my fanfics, jsyk.

I'm going on a withdrawl on everything; Reading, Writing, Web-surfing, and worst of all, MUSIC. It's all gone. Just like that. I'm crying as I type this.

So, with that said, I say goodbye to you guys. See you next year.

-Alee V.


	8. Chapter 7

**Hello everybody. Horrible excuse for a human being, here! How've all of you been? **

**As you all know, I am extremely sorry for making you all wait so long for an update. Two things are the main cause of that, and probably will be for the remainder of this story.**

**Number one: Time and computer limits. **

**That's right. I'm still limited. Thanks to my cousin, I am not trusted with my computer, so I only have a two hour limit each day. I also have to ASK to use it from my MOTHER. I didn't even DO anything this time, so it does kinda irk me.**

**Number two: The release of Clockwork Princess. **

**Now, as any normal human being would do, I should have finished the story while I had the time and resources to do BEFORE CP2 came out. Which is actually what I had been preparing to do until my mom decided I was far too interested in my writing than homely responsibilities. *Annoyed Sarcastic Face* But no. Everything has that ripe timing, right? Always. **

**So, I read CP2 (REALLY GOOD, A MUST READ) and I tried to reassemble the broken pieces of my heart and soul, which then lead me to facepalm myself when I realized that it changed a big portion of the plot for my story. Now, I'm not saying which part, `cause that would be an AWFUL spoiler, but still. I am now more indecisive than ever. **

**Which now brings me to another fact: Nobody's voted on the poll that's on my profile. Now, I'm pretty sure it's open to everybody, even anons, so I'm not sure what the deal is. I do appreciate, however, the people who gave their opinions in a review; Thanks so much, for reviewing and chipping in! The only problem, though, was that the majority of you said something like:**

"**I'm cool with anybody for Lillian! I'm a big J/Wessa fan, but it's up to you who you want her to end up with!"**

**No. Okay? Just NO. I asked **_**you guys**_** to tell me whom you wanted Lil with. I realize that I haven't given you much to decide about, so I'm gonna be putting in **_**a lot **_**of fillers, which will include Lil/Will and Lil/ Jem. That's the only way I can really carry on with this. Still, keep voting!**

**PHEW. Good to get that off my chest. Now for some other news:**

**I have a TUMBLR! I can connect with you guys and tell you I'm not dead! Also, I can post snippets of chapters from this story and all of my others, take questions, and all that other stuff! I imagine it'll be fun. I hope so. **

**My tumblr is: forever - musical - alee *dot* tumblr *dot* com. Obviously you have to remove the spaces and replace the *dots* with periods. **

**Bear with me though; I'm incredibly new at tumbling. Obviously. **

**End of news.**

**I would like to thank everybody who bothered to stick around to read this long A/N, and also those who reviewed on my last chapter! Thanks so much, all of your efforts go happily to the "Don't Let Alee Cry Herself to Sleep" charity. It means a lot. :D **

**You are all beautiful people; one of the sole reasons I drag myself out of bed and go to school for. I love you all so much, thanks! **

**Now, please enjoy this crap-tastic chapter that you shall receive right now below this line. **

**Review please? Come on; my birthday just passed 18 days ago! A belated birthday present to me, pretty please review? XD**

* * *

><p>The eerie witchlight casted shadows in the library of the Institute, creating a flickering horror show on the wall opposite of where I sat at a low table near the others, who sat at one of the long tables in the great, big room. I felt drowsy in my seat on the floor, as if my blood had turned into honey and was slowly crawling along to my brain, much too slow. It was a struggle for me to stay awake, though that wasn't the only reason. A startling exhaustion had settled in my bones when the carriage had arrived at the Institute with all of us in it. I couldn't fathom the cause of it for the life of me.<p>

After a long, tensely silent carriage ride back to Institute from the Clave meeting, we had all migrated to the library to start searching for Mortmain's whereabouts. Everyone was helping; even Jessamine, despite her complaints, did what Charlotte told her to. Everyone had a task, something specific to read form the millions of papers and articles on the tables, but I was almost certain that Jessamine and I had the easiest ones. I could understand how I was given an easy one; I was new, I didn't know anything about Shadowhunters and the like. Jessamine, however, was a complainer. The easier the job, the less complaining she did.

As I riffled through the papers on the table beside her, I tried to stifle a yawn behind my hand—and failed. Jessamine looked up from her stack of papers to shoot me a disgusted look. I merely raised an eyebrow at her.

Finally, when I felt my head begin to dip towards the table surface, Jessamine broke the silence. "Charlotte," she said, "I think we're wasting our time."

Charlotte looked up, a pained expression on her face. I could tell she, as well as the others, were tired as well. "Jessie, there is no need for you to stay if you do not desire to. I must say, I doubt any of us was expecting you to stay and help in this affair, and because you have never really tried in your studies, I cannot help wondering if you even know exactly what it is you are looking for. Could you tell a binding spell from a summoning spell if I set the two before you?"

I admit; I was pretty surprised at the sharpness of her tone. In the short time I'd been here—which I realized wasn't enough justification to think this way—I've never heard her speak that way to anyone here. Though—and this was even harder to admit—Jessamine had a point. Despite how tired I felt, I would've rather been up and _doing_ something than sitting and riffling through papers that would take the entirety of the two weeks we'd been given to find what we were looking for in.

Jessamine said, "I _want_ to help. Those mechanical _things_ of Mortmain's nearly killed me. I should like him to be caught and punished."

In the corner of my eye, I saw Will unroll a parchment that was apparently so old that it crackled. He squinted at the black symbols on the page. For a moment, the image of him sitting there, reading the black symbols on the ancient scroll in his hands wavered in my vision, blurring badly enough to create an ache at the back of my eyes. I didn't even think that was possible.

"No, you don't," Will drawled. "You just want Nate caught and captured for making you think he loved you when he didn't."

My eyes flickered beside me to Jessamine. Her cheeks flushed with color in the eerie witchlight, and I thought I saw her eyes flicker over every one of us before coming back to Will.

"I do _not._ I mean, I did not. I mean—ugh! Charlotte! Will's being vexing."

_Vexing?_ I wondered. They used such interesting words in front of me. Most people did. Nobody really remembered that I never had a formal education.

"And the sun has risen in the east," I heard Jem say, seemingly to nobody in particular.

Jessie gave an exaggerated sigh. "I just don't want to be tossed out of the Institute if we can't find Mortmain," she continued. "Is that so difficult to understand?"

"It won't be you who gets thrown out of the Institute. It will be Charlotte. I'm sure the Lightwoods will let you stay. And Benedict has two marriageable sons," Will told her. "You should be delighted."

Jessamine made a face at him. "Shadowhunters." She said the world like one might say _rats_; with disgust and contempt. "As if I'd want to marry one of them."

"Jessamine," I said quietly from my perch on the floor, "you _are _one of them." Then I added, almost as an afterthought, "Aren't you?"

Before she could give me some nasty reply, the library door opened, and in came Sophie with her head ducked. She whispered something to Charlotte, who then stood up. "Brother Enoch is here," she said to everyone. "I must speak with him. Will and Jessamine, please try not to kill each other while I'm not here. Henry, if you could…"

She trailed off, and I followed her gaze. Henry was busy gazing down at a book—the title of which I could not see from my angle—and wasn't paying attention whatsoever to anything else. Charlotte threw her hands up with exasperation, and then left the room with Sophie.

The moment the door closed behind the two, Jessamine shot a venomous look towards Will. "If I don't have the experience to help, then why are _they_ here?" She waved a hand at Tessa and me. "I don't mean to be rude, but do you think _she_ could tell the difference between a binding spell and a summoning one?" Then she looked at me. "And what is this one doing here? All she's doing is sitting on the floor and sifting through papers. If Charlotte had to question anybody, it ought to have been _her._ And Will, you pay so little attention in our lessons; can _you_ tell the difference between a binding spell and a _soufflé recipe?_"

"What's a soufflé recipe?" I asked no one in particular. I blew out a sigh between my lips, propping my head on my fist.

Will leaned back in his chair and said, "'I am but mad north-north-west; when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.'"

I frowned. If I was being honest—and I am when I say this—I did not get a single word of that.

"Jessamine, Tessa and Lillian have kindly offered to help, and we need all the eyes we can get right now," Jem said. I didn't miss the severity in his voice. "Will, do not quote _Hamlet._ Henry…" He paused to clear his throat. "HENRY."

At that, Henry looked up, blinking. "Yes, darling?" He looked around, blinking again. "Where's Charlotte?"

I could hold back the sleepy giggles at Henry mistaking Jem for Charlotte.

"She went to talk with the Silent Brothers," said Jem. He didn't look particularly happy at being mistaken for Charlotte. "In the meantime I'm afraid… I rather agree with Jessie on this."

Will sat up, eyes widening slightly. "And the sun comes up in the _west_," he said.

"But why?" Tessa looked just as bewildered as Will. "We mustn't give up now. It would be like handing over the Institute to that awful Benedict Lightwood."

"With a pretty pink ribbon around it," I quipped, shrugging my aching shoulders up and letting them fall down.

No one paid me any attention.

"I'm not suggesting we do _nothing_," Jem hurried to reassure them. "We're trying to decode what it is that Mortmain is going to _do._ We're trying to envisage the future instead of trying to understand the past."

"We already know Mortmain's past _and _his plans." Will waved a hand at the newspapers on the table. "He was born in Devon, a ship's surgeon, became a wealthy trader, got himself assorted in dark magic, and now he has plans to rule the world with a massive army of mechanical creatures behind him. Not an atypical story for a determined young man—"

Tessa interrupted him. "I don't recall he ever said anything about ruling the whole world. Just the British Empire."

Will may have said something else, but at that moment, an explosion of pain burst like tiny fireworks in the back of my head. I hissed silently in pain. It felt like some invisible hand was reaching into my head and poking my brain with a finger to see how I reacted. Poke, poke, poke…

And just like that it stopped, leaving a ghostly reminder in my mind. I could feel traces of the pain if I moved too my head too fast, even just to turn.

Apparently, it stopped just in time for me to hear the Jem say, "Reparations," suddenly, as if the thought had finally formed after trying so hard to remember it.

Will only looked at him, baffled. "Is this a game?" he asked. "Are we just blurting out whatever words come next in mind? In that case, then, mine's 'genuphobia.' It means an unreasonable fear of knees."

So many big words….

"What's the word for a perfectly reasonable fear of annoying idiots?" Jessamine said, narrowing her eyes at Will.

Despite the pain lingering in my head, I gave a breathy laugh at that one. _I wish I knew, _I thought.

"The Reparation section of the archives," Jem elaborated. Not that I was really enlightened at all. "I remember the Consul mentioning it. We haven't looked there."

The world started to swim in and out of my senses. One moment everything was fine, and then I couldn't hear anything, or my sight began to blur. I could only watch as Tessa's lips moved to shape words that I couldn't hear, and then Will began to speak and I could head what he was saying.

"…silly to look there?" he was saying. "It's not as if he would lodge complaints through our official channels…."

And then my hearing failed again. Sweat collected in my palms in nervousness. What was going on with me? Was I going deaf? How was that possible? Could a person slowly fall into deafness without any known reason or cause? And what was up with my eyes? Were they too watery or something? Was there something I couldn't feel bothering them? Was all of this just because I was tired?

My train of thought stopped there because the next thing I knew, Tessa was standing up and glaring at Will while he glared back. Jem came between them as if to stop them from fighting, but then Will turned, grabbed his things, and left the library.

"How interesting," Jessamine said, her brown eyes narrowing. I couldn't help agreeing.

Tessa, looking shaken, started lightly when Jem put a hand on her arm. "Come," he said to her. "We'll find Charlotte."

Since when was Charlotte in the conversation?

_Since you went deaf and didn't hear it._

"And what am I supposed to do while you're gone?" Jessie said as they moved toward the door.

"You could wake up Henry," Jem suggested, glancing at the now sleeping man behind him. "I think he's starting to eat paper in his sleep again, and you know how Charlotte hates that."

"Oh, _bother_," Jessamine said, crossing her arms and huffing indignantly. "Why do _I_ always get the silly tasks?"

"Because you don't want the serious ones!" Jem said. "If you don't want such a silly task, you could always help Lillian return to her room. Oh," he said, catching sight of me on the floor. I imagined I looked almost passed out, head lolling to both sides as I struggled to stay awake and keep my eyes open. "Lilly, I feel terrible. We seem to have forgotten about you in all this madness. I'm sorry."

I cleared my throat, trying to sit up straight. "It's okay," I said. "Used to it. It was entertaining, anyway, so…" I shrugged, trailing off.

Jem offered me a concerned smile, and then said, "Well, good night. I will see you all tomorrow morning." Together, he and Tessa left the library.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jessamine shot a disgusted look at me, not saying a word. I sighed, already knowing what was coming. This girl knew how to keep grudges, obviously.

"Alright," I said, hands up in surrender. "I know what you want. Fine. Fine. Here we go." I cleared my throat again.

"I'm sorry, Miss Jessamine Lovelace, if the things I said to you the first day we met offended you. I am not sorry, however, that I said them, because according to everyone, you needed to hear them. They were not words meant to offend you—well, that much, anyway—they were words that, at the time, came from my anger. I felt disrespected at the comment you made before I said it all. I felt _offended_ by _you._ But I've put it past me and I've forgiven you for it. I know you probably don't think I had anything to forgive you for, but I do, and I did. I only hope that you can forgive me for the offense I've done you."

I waited in silence. She didn't look at me, her head turned toward the witchlight on the table. The light shined in her eyes, turning their brown into a liquid amber color. Her arms were crossed still, though her haughty expression wavered, showing a different emotion that I couldn't quite read before she wiped it away.

"That," Henry's voice said from the pile of books he'd been sleeping on, "was quite an apology."

Jessamine and I both jumped, our heads whipping toward Henry, who now sat up, bleary-eyed, at the table. There was a thick, red line on his cheek, an imprint of the spine of a book that his face had been lying on. I would've laughed had I not been so tired.

Jessamine turned her head to look at me, her expression haughty once more. "I suppose," she said in a superior voice, "I could forgive you. I won't forget it, Lillian, but I will forgive you for it."

I let out a soft sigh. "Thank you, Jessamine. I appreciate it." Surprisingly, in that moment, I actually did.

"Well, then," she said after a moment. "Since Henry appears to be awake now, we can leave. Good night, Henry." She looked at me for a moment. Then, almost grudgingly, she stood up, walked the few steps over to me, and just stared down at me. "Good night, Lillian." It seemed as though it took effort just to say my name.

"I need help, Jessamine," I said, thinking she was just gonna leave me there. I mean, to be honest, it seemed like something she would do, despite having forgiven me. "Will you help me get to my rooms? I can barely move; I'm so exhausted."

She must've seen it was true. I didn't think she would've helped me otherwise. Despite what I had thought about her when I first met her, she really wasn't all that bad. Sure, her attitude and way of thinking wasn't exactly charming, but underneath it all… there was good in her. I believed it. Whether or not she would feed that good to let it grow was up to her. No one could change her.

"Oh, alright," Jessamine groaned. I held my arms up to her, and she leaned down, sliding her arms under mine to get a good grip on me. Our gloves made it hard to get a good, solid grip, but we managed. She pulled me up, and I pushed myself, getting my legs underneath me, until I was standing up. A tsunami wave of vertigo crashed down on me as the blood rushed to my head. I almost fell over, and I would have, if Jessamine had let go of me the moment I was up.

"I feel incredibly dizzy. Oh, I can't see," I breathed. I was literally seeing stars.

"Well, the sooner you're in your room, the sooner I'll be rid of you," Jessie said beside me. Her arm was around my shoulders, holding me up and keeping me from falling over. "Henry, you should go to your room as well. Good night."

We shuffled toward the door, and I tried my best not to lean on her too much, fearing she would probably drop me in the hall way for Sophie to find me, unconscious and dreadful-looking in the middle of the night. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever. I wouldn't know. I was closing my eyes, trying to stop the vertigo from escalating. I could hardly breathe in the dress I was wearing; deep breaths were out of the question. Thankfully, I didn't feel the need to throw up. I couldn't imagine throwing up on the hallway floor of the Institute or, Heaven forbid, Jessamine herself. She definitely wouldn't forget _that._

After what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at my room. Jessamine opened the door with a little trouble, angling herself between me and the door, and the left me at my bed. "I must go now," she said to me, already walking toward the door. Apparently, this was where her kindness stopped. "Good night, Lillian."

She closed the door behind her, shrouding me in darkness. I stumbled, blindly and dizzily, toward the vanity table, reaching for the box of matches so I could light the candle at the bedside table. The orange-ish light bathed the room, and I sat at the vanity table, looking at myself in the mirror. I usually tended not to look at myself in mirrors because I found it vain; but I couldn't help myself. I needed to see what was wrong with me.

I looked haggard in the mirror. Tired. Exhausted. Like I was about to collapse. I needed to get out of this dress and this corset and just go to bed. So I tried to. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get anything off. I needed Sophie's help. I wanted her to help me take off this corset so that I could _breathe._

I kicked off the horribly _painful_ shoes and exited my room, staggering down the hall. Every few seconds I would walk too close to the wall and bang my shoulder against it, but I was too afraid that if I walked too far away from the wall I would fall over. I already had once, ten minutes into my search for Sophie. The halls were so _long_. Or maybe it was just the fact that I couldn't walk in a straight line at all that made me incapable of finding Sophie faster.

Twenty minutes into my search, I was coming up to a corner when I heard voices. A girl's voice talking and boy's laughter coming toward me. I stumbled again, the world going sideways as I banged my shoulder into the wall—again. The source of the voices came around the corner; Jem and Tessa. They saw me at the same time, their laughing faces turning quickly to concern when they noticed my state. I was breathing—_gasping_—too quickly, I was obviously dizzy, sweat was trickling down the sides of my face—I probably wouldn't have recognized myself.

"Lillian!" Tessa rushed over to me. The movement was too much for my brain to handle; I collapsed, and would've fallen on my face if Jem hadn't gotten there in time. He caught me in his arms, his silvery eyes shining with concern. It was the only thing not moving too quickly to focus on, the only thing I could see clearly.

"What happened to you? Are you alright?" Jem asked me worriedly. His forehead creased with concern.

"I was—" I gasped, then swallowed to speak. "Looking for Sophie."

Tessa came up to me, laying a hand on my forehead. She sucked in a breath like a backwards hiss. "You're burning up!"

"We have to get you to Charlotte," Jem said.

"I'm so dizzy," I said; my voice was slow and thick, as if I'd just woken up from a deep, deep sleep. "It's hard to breathe. I can't—see right. Sometimes I can't hear—anything. My shoulder hurts…."

And suddenly I was being hoisted up. I gave a small yelp of surprise, clutching at Jem as he quickly carried me down three hallways. Of course all the jostled movement made things even worse. I buried my face into his collar, listening and feeling the vibrations of his throat as he murmured little apologies. I heard the rustle of dress fabric, though I couldn't tell if it was my dress or just Tessa following us from behind. I wasn't sure about anything except the fact that Jem was carrying me to an unknown place.

It wasn't until he opened the door to my room that I knew he'd been carrying me back to my room. He gently laid me down on my bed, running a hand through his hair as he gazed down at me.

"Should I go get Charlotte?" Tessa said from behind him. She came up next to him at my bedside, gazing down at me with concern. Had I missed something? Did everyone all of a sudden remember me after forgetting about me for hours? Not that I minded; the whole situation was tense and desperate. Such a charge to be laid down on Charlotte and everyone here….

"I think so. She's starting to babble."

_I was?_ His words confused me. I wasn't aware that I was doing anything except gasping in short breaths and sweating buckets. Then I heard myself; soft, breathy, indecipherable words tumbling past my lips. I couldn't tell what I was saying. That was when I knew it was really bad. How could I not understand myself? There was something really wrong here. My heart seized in fear.

"Alright. I'll look for Sophie as well. That corset might be a big part of it." And the blurry form that was Tessa scurried out of the room, leaving me alone with Jem.

For a few seconds he was silent. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure what to do," he admitted, though whether it was to me or him, I wasn't sure. "This sort of thing usually happens to _me._ I'm too disoriented to see what they do. Usually they just call Charlotte and try to assess what's wrong until she gets here. Can you understand me? Are you lucid?"

I clutched his sleeve. "Jem," I rasped. "I don't know…. Something's wrong…. So tired…"

I saw panic flicker in his silvery eyes. "Stay awake, Lillian. Please, don't sleep just yet. Let Charlotte look at you first…."

His voice drifted silent. It was frustrating. Picture a person inside of your head. Picture that person in this central office-like place where the controls to your five senses are. Now picture that person just spazzing out in there, turning on and off your hearing, un-focusing your eyesight, making your body really hot and then really cold all at once. That's the most accurate description I could think of under the circumstances.

I don't remember much about the rest of that night. I only have vague flashes of memories. Charlotte's tired, concerned face hovering over mine. Sophie bursting into the room before Charlotte came. Jem finally leaving after Charlotte made him. Will making a confused, slightly shocked appearance to see me looking so ill. I slipped in and out of consciousness, feeling hot and cold with headaches so bad they almost felt like migraines. I had no idea when it would end, and when it had begun; time had lost meaning. There was only pain; pain and sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning I was fine. Tired from lack of sleep, of course, but fine. No pain. No sudden bursts of fever, or shortness of breath. Not even any sudden losses of sight or hearing. It was as if the events of last night never happened. Almost like a dream. I could've convinced myself of that, had Tessa, Jem, and Charlotte not kept glancing at me every few minutes like they expected me to go into a seizure or something.<p>

Because I was okay the next morning, Charlotte made me go with Sophie and Tessa to the training room in gear to train with the Lightwood brothers.

To be honest, I was pretty nervous. I'd never handled weapons before. The closest I'd ever been to a weapon—before time-jumping (as I liked to call it)—was when the police came to investigate the murder of someone in the apartment building we lived in. The policeman had knocked on our door and I'd answered with Jace on my hip, eyeing the gun his hand kept drifting to every couple of seconds as if he thought I would suddenly drop the baby and pull out a knife on him. We never left those apartments, even after the whole murder case was closed, our _next door neighbor_ discovered as the murderer.

I walked into the training room tentatively, shoulders hunched, head low. The black gear was comfortable to me, much more comfortable than those awful dresses; the shirt and pants allowed me to move freely, getting me to the training room much faster than I would have in a dress. The boots and belt were interesting to tie; well, the belt was. I was unused to the complicatedness of it, but eventually I got it. It was almost like encasing myself in a tough, comfortable shell. I felt like a warrior in it, ready to take on anything.

At least I _did_, until I came into the training room.

The first thing I saw was the weapons. _So _many weapons. Swords, knives, bows and arrows, cross bows, seraph blades, even a few staffs—it all took my breath away. The second thing I noticed was the tidiness of the room. I would've expected that it would have at least a few weapons strewn around, but apparently not. And then I noticed Sophie and Tessa standing in the middle of the room. I walked over to them, still looking around.

Before I reached them, however, movement and a soft noise from above made me glance up to see Jem clambering down one of the ropes from the exposed beams in the ceiling, landing in front of them lightly. I gave a breathy laugh under my breath.

"Good morning," I greeted them. "Are you two as nervous as I am for training? Hello, Jem."

"Good morning, Lillian," Tessa said, smiling. "I think I am."

"Good morning, Miss Coleman," Sophie said. "I admit, I am feeling a bit nervous about this whole thing."

"Hello, Lillian," said Jem. He looked me over, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes in slight annoyance.

"Did you not get enough of a look at me during breakfast, Jem?" I asked, softening it with a laugh to show I was just kidding. "I'm alright! I'm fine."

He looked up, his cheeks coloring slightly. "Sorry," he apologized, looking slightly sheepish. "I'm just worried that last night's events could happen again."

"Anything could happen," I said vaguely. "We just can't spend time worrying over all those possibilities, or we'll never get anything done."

We waited for a few minutes, making small talk as we waited for the Lightwoods to get here.

"We won't be going through a _full_ course of training, will we?" Sophie was saying. "The Council only said we needed to know how to defend ourselves just a little bit…"

"Don't worry, Sophie, there's nothing to be frightened of," Jem said gently. "And you will be glad of it. It's always useful for a beautiful girl to be able to fend off the uninvited attentions of gentlemen."

There was a shift in Sophie's expression and demeanor, then, at that comment. Her face tightened, her scar standing out against her pale face. "Don't make fun," she said flatly. "It isn't kind."

Jem looked surprised. "I didn't mean—,"

The door of the training room opened, interrupting him midsentence. We all turned as a boy—the same boy from the Council meeting—strolled into the room, another boy, older looking, following him in. Gabriel Lightwood was slender and dark-haired; the other boy was almost his complete opposite. He was muscular, with thick, sandy hair. They were both dressed in gear; though I noticed they both wore expensive looking gloves with metal studs across the knuckles. There were white rune patterns on their sleeves. Despite all the similarities of their clothes, you could tell they were related by their face-shape, and their luminous green eyes. Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, looking at James.

"Well, we're here as we said we'd be. James, I assume you remember my brother, Gideon. Miss Collins, Miss Gray, and Miss—," he paused pointedly, looking at me.

"Coleman." My voice was abrupt and curt; just like his.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," the other guy, Gideon, muttered. He didn't meet anyone's eyes, keeping his own down on the floor. _Was impoliteness hereditary?_ I thought, cocking my head to the side as I looked at him.

"Don't worry," Jem said to Gabriel. "Will's not here."

Gabriel, who was glancing around the room, frowned at Jem, but he'd already turned toward Gideon.

"When did you get back from Madrid?" he asked the older boy politely.

"My father called me back a short while ago," Gideon answered, his voice neutral. "Family business."

"Well, I do hope that everything's all right—"

"Yes, everything is quite all right, thank you, James," Gabriel said; his clipped tone sparked my annoyance. "Before we move on to the training part of this visit, there are two people you probably should meet." He turned his head away and called, "Mr. Tanner! Ms. Daly! Please come up."

There was the sound of footsteps, and two strangers entered the training room, both wearing plain clothes similar to what Sophie usually wore, but a little different, obviously, because the woman was a cook, and the man was… whatever the Institute was missing. I couldn't remember exactly.

One was a young lady, obviously big boned under her skinny, and overall awkward frame. Her hair was bright red, and in a bun, kind of like mine and Sophie's and Tessa's, though she wore a hat over it. Her bare hands were red, as if they'd been scrubbed hard recently. Her companion was a young man, tall and lean, with brown hair and light eyes.

At the sight of him, Sophie let out a light gasp, and I turned to look at her; she was shocked, eyes wide, skin pale. "Thomas…" she whispered.

At the name, the man looked extremely uncomfortable. "I'm not Thomas, miss," he said. "I'm Thomas's brother, Cyril."

"Both are well-trained fighters," Gabriel said.

"Thomas and Agatha were trained," Tessa argued, looking slightly miffed.

_There's a word you've never used,_ I mused to myself. _Miffed…_

_Learned it from Charlotte last night. _She'd said it to Jem when she'd forced him to leave my room and go to sleep. I'd put two and two together from his expression and her sentence. _"You needn't look so miffed, Jem," _she'd said. _"You're hardly doing her any good by waiting up all night. It's different for me. It's practically my job, staying up all night…."_ And then I'd gone deaf too soon to hear the last of that conversation.

Suddenly Tessa was yanking on my arm, pulling me backwards from Gabriel and the man, Cyril. At first I thought a fight had broken out; they were nothing but a blur of swords and black and white clothing. Then I noticed that Gabriel had a smirk on his face, and that it was anything but a fight. Apparently he was proving just how trained Cyril was.

Of course Gabriel won the match. He was obviously more experienced in sword-fighting. Cyril was drenched in sweat by the end of it, an easy grin lighting up his face as he surrendered. "I yield," he started to say, but there was a flash of movement, and the other girl with in on top of Gabriel, kneeling on his chest with a dagger at his throat. Gabriel stared up at her, dazed; then he started to laugh. It was surprisingly nice, his laugh.

"Impressive," a familiar voice drawled from behind. Will was standing at the door, arms and ankles crossed in an impressive imitation of someone who was bored. But his eyes, though half-lidded, were alert, giving him away.

"My name is Bridget Daly, sir," the girl said, climbing off of Gabriel and straightening her dress. She seemed flustered all of a sudden, her cheeks flushing. I could tell why. Will looked ruggedly handsome, his hair disheveled as if from sleep, his beautiful blue eyes scanning everyone in the room, skipping over Bridget after a second's glance. I wondered if I should tell her it wasn't worth it getting flustered over Will; he obviously wasn't paying her attention.

"Lord, you're Irish," he said, eyes widening a fraction mockingly. "Do you cook anything without potatoes in them? I had an Irish cook when I was a boy; always cooked with potatoes…." His words only further seemed to fluster and confuse the poor girl.

"I…"

I pitied her in that one moment.

"How are you, Lillian?" Will asked. His gaze slid over to me, looking me over quickly as if to make sure I wouldn't lie.

Gabriel, not knowing my first name, looked confused before he caught Will's eye and looked over to me, reassessing me as if my first name had changed anything about me.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking," I chirped. "Don't know what happened last night, but I'm all better now. If anything, I think it was just exhaustion, or something."

Will nodded. After an exchange of words, he and Jem left us to do… who-knew-what. There was a nervous silence that lasted a few seconds after the door closed. Then Gabriel grabbed one of the many blades in the room and handed it to his brother.

"I think it's time we started training, wouldn't you say so, ladies?"

Gideon looked at his brother. "_Esta es la idea mas estupida que nuestro padre ha tenido," _he said. "_Nunca."_

I started at the sudden change of language; one I actually understood better than any other. His words were quite uncalled for, though.

"_¿Por qué dices eso? ¿Realmente tienen tan poca fe en nosotros? Claro, somos mujeres, pero somos más fuertes de lo que tu damos crédito. Vamos a ver cómo usted piensa en nosotros cuando la formación ha terminado," _I said, glaring at them.

The looks on Gabriel's and Gideon's faces—_priceless._

We started off the day with some basic blocking and balancing exercises. Because there were three of us, we alternated. Gabriel or Gideon would help Tessa and Sophie for a few minutes, and then Sophie would step out for a break, or to practice something on her own, and I would stop practicing by myself and get help from one of the brothers. It was actually enjoyable. I could lose myself in the steady rhythm of blocking a blow from Gabriel, or the soft spoken mutters of Spanish under his breath from Gideon when I held the sword wrong. I would always respond to those, snapping at him in annoyed, rapid-fire Spanish that I'd learned at much too young an age. Sometimes I earned the hint of a smile when I said something he found funny. Mostly, though, I just got eye rolls.

They were both pretty good teachers; patient enough, willing to go through the motions repeatedly until we got them right, offering words of encouragement when we almost got things right and praise when we did get them right. It got me thinking about school; was this what it was like to go to class and learn? Was it always this fun? Would I have enjoyed going to school if I'd had the chance before we went broke and my siblings were born? I would never know, of course; but I was okay with that.

Despite how much I enjoyed training, my body sagged in relief when we were finally done. All three of us were tired; my arms were sore from holding the heavy blade, my calves had that slight burn from running or moving swiftly for a long time, and shoulders didn't seem to want to relax. They were tense, hitched up slightly, and I couldn't make them ease them down. I craned my neck and rubbed my shoulders, wincing slightly at the pain my touch caused.

"Good work, ladies," Gabriel said to us as we began to put away the weapons we'd used. "The next time we meet, we'll be doing exercises in self-defense without the swords."

"Are we going to learn how to use knives?" I asked. I couldn't help myself; all through training, those knives mounted on the walls gleamed at me, just _asking_ me to take one and learn how to use it. I didn't know why I was so attracted to them; I just was. They were calling my name.

Gabriel frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"I just… really want to learn how to use them in a fight. I mean—well, I don't know what I mean. I just feel… attracted, almost." As I spoke, I walked over to the nearest wall. There was a knife on that wall that called out to me the most. It was a normal sized dagger, not too big and not too small, that seemed to fit and balance perfectly in my hand. There was a red ruby in the middle of the handle, and I thought of how ironic it was that this dagger should have my birthstone in it.

When I turned around, I saw Gabriel frowning even harder at me. He stared, looking at me, at the way I held the dagger, at the way I stood there, looking back at him. Then, he opened his mouth to speak. "Stand over here, exactly the way you're standing over there," he said slowly. He indicated the spot he was standing at with an index finger.

I did as I was told, coming over to stand where he told me to in the same position I was in near the wall. He took a step closer to me, standing at my side. "Now," he said, his voice low as though not to interrupt my concentration, "throw the knife into that target over there." He pointed with a long finger towards a large, ancient-looking red target painted onto the wall directly across from where we stood. The distance was pretty long; I wasn't sure I could make it. "Show me what you can do."

Gabriel stepped away, his hands behind his back, his eyes observing me, calculative. I swallowed, pushing the thought of him out of my mind as I turned my head to look back at the target.

_I can do this,_ I thought to myself. _I can do this. This is like nothing. Just pull back and throw. You can do it. Don't even think about it. Just do it. _

Like a thing possessed, my arm came up, pulling back and forth, going through the motions of knife-throwing a few times as practice. I kept my eye on the target, never letting them drift away; my entire focus was solely on those faded red rings on the wall. Then came the moment of truth; I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, hoping to quell any tremors inside. I reared back my hand, dagger ready to throw, and let the dagger fly, throwing with all the strength I had.

There was a few seconds of awful silence, and then—_thunk!_ My eyes widened in shock, and I let out a shocked gasp. Gabriel, Gideon, Tessa, and Sophie looked much the same; wide, shocked eyes, and gaping mouths.

My dagger had landed deep into the wall, in the bull's eye. It was a little to the side, but still in the bull's eye nonetheless. Bubbles of joy rose in my throat, and I gave a little giggle of disbelief. "Is that supposed to be possible?" I asked. I could hardly believe it. While I was overjoyed that I'd done it, I couldn't believe it.

Mutely, Gabriel shook his head. He shared a silent look with his brother. I went over to Tessa and Sophie and nodded for them to walk with me.

"So we'll see you next time for practice?" I said, grinning at them. "I sure hope so—I rather enjoy training."

And with that, I gave them a wink, and left the training room with Tessa and Sophie to hopefully take a bath before dinner.

* * *

><p><strong>And—cut. There you go, guys! The new chapter! I know it was kinda dry, but I hope you like it, all the same. <strong>

**So yeah. Subscribe. Recommend. REVIEW. Favorite. Make me happy with wonderful reviews! And don't forget—please follow me on tumblr, if you have one. I'm not desperate for followers, or anything; I just think it'll be fun to do stuff online like that. And to be able to remind you guys I'm not dead without making a single A/N on here. Love you guys!**

**Ciao!**

**~Alee V.**


End file.
